Wild World
by FeistyFeist
Summary: The taste of freedom and the written word get to Ponyboy Curtis. And with a mystery hanging over his head, brothers breathing down his neck, Ponyboy is about to discover that sometimes the story's in you. So are the lengths you'll go to find it.
1. Have Words Will Travel

Disclaimers: SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

XxX

_Prologue:_

It all starts with a story.

I was a story in print. The clippings about me, Johnny and Dal, almost always unfair, were fascinating. But I wrote a story too; the other side.

I want to do more. I want to be the one to tell. To give a voice, to help, to do…something. So I go to school, hours away at the University of Oklahoma.

I think I'll be some hot shot writer. Well, I'm not. I've written one good piece in my life and it's back in Tulsa, buried in an old shoe box. Instead I'm a freshman kissing ass on the school newspaper with some nasty habits.

Life slaps you in the face that way.

XxX

"Look at this, kid. Hey, your name's Curtis ain't it?"

I swivel to look at him, turning away from my notepad. A rusty colored guy with black eyes and an antsy smile. He's haggard and smells like pot. I like Colin though; he's a good writer and fair, having given me two assignments I figured were over my head.

"What's up, man?"

Colin taps a _Tulsa World_ paper. "We put out better stuff in the_ Oklahoma Daily_." On the front page is a story about a local fashion show, Jessica Murphy getting crowned Miss Tulsa. "Hell, even you can write better than this Curtis."

"Thanks," I tell him, arching a brow. "I think." I lean back in my chair, managing to light a smoke. It's one of the first time's Colin's ever addressed me by name and the need to look cool rears its head.

He chuckles and leans over to see what I'm writing. He sniffs. "Professor Byron's termination?"

I shrug, tapping my pencil against the table. "Yeah, but it's still a sto—"

"Tell you what; write an op-ed piece for me. Scrap that shit."

The tapping stops. I bite my lip. "But I could—"

"Scrap it, Curtis. Rip it up, toss the ball."

I trash all my notes, rolling the papers up into a tight wad; I dunk them into the nearest trash.

XxX

Colin takes me under his wing at the school paper – _The Oklahoma Daily_. Shows me the ropes. Journalists to aspire to. How to beat the competition.

It's all I want to do. Find a story. Put it on paper. As weird as it seems, Johnny and Dal got me into it. I always liked to doodle and draw but writing that piece for Mr. Syme put it all in perspective.

Words got it out for me.

Three months into college, I declare my major: Journalism.

XxX

"What do you like to write?"

"I don't know."

"Don't say that Curtis. You know. What moves you?"

"People."

"People?"

"As in…?" Colin gestures grandly, smacking his ashtray off of the table. He barely gives it a second glance. I stare at the scattered ash on the floor, feeling lame. He slams a hand on the table. "C'mon, give me an answer."

"Solving stuff. Issues," I hastily snap and then bury my face in my hands, moaning. "Ugh, I sound like a damn martyr."

He barks out a laugh. "Maybe so but at least you're honest."

XxX

I start hanging around with some guys from the newspaper. They're not the same as Two-Bit and Steve, don't even come close but they're good enough for college. Besides, I miss my friends and family more than I care to think about. It makes it easy to distance.

College is hard but I'm doing ok. A friend gives me something to make it easier to cram. He tells me they're pep pills, legal and safe.

Whatever they are they sure as hell work.

I'm wired.

I write.

XxX

Colin publishes my op-ed piece. I send it home to Darry and Sodapop. I secretly hide a copy under my mattress. It's too cool. I'm published; if even in the university newspaper.

It's just me out here at college and surprisingly, I'm finding myself.

Unfortunately, I'm also forgetting some things.

XxX

The pills are as good as gold. I take two a day instead of one. I like the rush. The sheer adrenaline they give me to write. It's freeing – I don't think, just write. Just smoke cigarettes and scribble, hunting stories. And instead of having 15 hours in the day to do school work and write and hang out and run I have 20.

The little things like forgetting that my English Lit class is in room 200 of the Fine Arts Building and not in room 5 of the Science and Anatomy building don't matter. I'm told the jitters are normal. Close spaces make me nervous and I always feel like laughing or crying at the wrong time. But it's exciting to me. I've never felt this free before.

If that's what you want to call it.

XxX

"Ponyboy," Darry barks on the other line. "Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?" I sit on the edge of my bed, my right leg jumping, my mouth so dry it tastes like cotton. I don't say anything, holding the phone to my ear and letting Darry rant. "Elizabeth is trying to get a count," he prattles and I feel so goddamn disconnected I stare at the wall, wondering why a crack is crooked.

"I don't think so," I tell him, finally getting nerve. "Tell Liz, zero on my end."

There's a long pause. Darry's not expecting my response and I feel almost smug for making him speechless for once. Then I feel bad and mutter, "Schoolwork, Dar. Tons and tons of papers."

"I uh, I know you wanna do well, Pony, but don't overdo it, kiddo," Darry says, voice strained.

"I know. I won't, Darry."

"Hey, hold on, Pony…" There's a door slamming, a rustling noise, hushed whispers and then Darry's back. "Soda wants to talk to you."

"I know. I can't. I gotta go. I love you, Darry," I tell him before hanging up. And even though I'm high, I mean it more than I ever have.

XxX

That Thanksgiving, when everyone else has gone home, I stay up for 24-hours straight, writing. I like the high I get, the buzz from staying up and disconnecting with my emotions. I don't even have time to feel guilty about it. I've been good for a long time and Darry don't have nothing on me.

I'm five hours away and he's got a life. A girl.

I smoke a pack of cigarettes and when I'm done my throat hurts.

XxX

"I'm not publishing this."

The paper I'm holding out to Colin goes untouched. A story I've been working on for the past week. "What?" I ask. "It's not good?"

"Good? It's great," he tells me. He swipes a hand through his rusty hair. "But you, my young friend, are on something. And while I deem it fine to be high, you are not fine. And thusly, I'm not publishing anything you write."

I roll my eyes. "Screw you." Shakily, I light a smoke. The first puff that passes my lips has me coughing. In fact, I've been coughing for a while.

Colin gets serious, a scary thing when he's about as bouncy as Sodapop and Two-Bit combined. He puts his hands out and grips my shoulders. "Curtis, just…just sort yourself. Until then I don't want to see you around here."

I go back to my dorm and cry.

XxX

Bored yet?

I will admit – this story has similar themes as some of my other stories but be patient. It will turn out differently, I promise you. I wanted to toy around with a different writing style (shorter snippets to tell more, less backstory) and get inside some themes. Eh, we shall see.

And yes, it's another Ponyboy story. I honestly can't get away from him. I have issues.

This story came and I had to write it. Totally understandable if you're sick of him as a topic.

BUT if you're not…please read and review. I will do my best to update ASAP.

XO.

Feisty


	2. Mine is Yours

Chp 2. Mine is Yours

XxX

"Steve broke Two-Bit's finger," Soda's telling me. "They were wrestling and the dumb son-of-a-bitch…"

"Uh huh," I mutter, tuning my brother out as he narrates their latest adventure. I pinch the bridge of my nose, a headache brewing. Searching for some water, I take three pills, swigging down the liquid.

"—there? Kiddo?"

"What?"

"Damn it, Pony," Soda swears, suddenly angry. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing." I shake my head, trying to keep focus. I tuck the phone under my chin as I light a cigarette. "Someone was talking to me, is all." Even now, I'm impressed with my quick lying skills.

As soon as I take a drag I start coughing – hacking is more like it. "Hold on," I manage to croak out, dumping the phone onto my bed. I cough into my hands and when I pull them away, they're bright red.

I give them a quick stare and then wipe them on my jeans. I pick up the phone.

XxX

This time, I have to go home for Christmas. No excuses.

Dorms close, the University shuts down like there's no life. I pack a bag with my pencil, notepad, and a few textbooks. The pills go in too. At least, I can go back telling Darry I have straight A's for my first college semester.

And it's not a lie. I do.

Sodapop picks me up and I'm amazed at how hard he hugs me.

XxX

Liz coddles. I let her. She's good for Darry and spoils everyone. With jet black hair and straight bangs she reminds me a bit of Snow White. She and Darry met at a work picnic. It worked out and she moved in six months back. Soda swears Darry's chicken to propose marriage and so far, Soda's right. Darry hasn't asked. I think he's chicken too.

It's good to be home. I shoot the shit with Two-Bit, trade barbs with Steve and even though I probably talk too much no one says a thing. We have a good first few days of Christmas.

XxX

I can't sit still.

We go bowling and I'm writing. I tell Soda to take my turn.

I can't do movies anymore. They make me fidgety. My hands shake. Plus, the dark makes it hard to write. You have to squint. I want to go back to school with an idea. Prove to Colin that I can do it.

I take too many pills and earn dark circles. I stay in my room when everyone else is over and fill notebooks full of words. I can't even read my own handwriting. Darry and Liz's laughter echoes through the walls. Darry asks me about college, seems put off when I tell him I declared my major.

Soda makes me nervous. He watches me, speaking in odd half sentences, never finishing his thoughts. I want to tell him to spit it out, whatever he wants to say. We hang out at his place with Steve, watching stupid black and white TV shows.

The snow falls outside.

XxX

Darry's not stupid. He knows something's up.

My oldest brother tries to talk to me. I end up yelling at him for something stupid, something from the past, and storming out of the house. It's embarrassing; I can still picture Liz, a hand on her mouth, looking confused and hurt.

XxX

I come back to the house late at night and instantly, I hate it. It smells different, like perfume and apple pie and while it's not a bad thing, to me, at that moment it's not home. I don't know how I could have missed it. Been so stupid.

My hands start shaking and I storm into the bedroom and start packing my bags. My brain whirls crazily. I'm catching the first bus back to school, open or not. Squatting, I shove t-shirts and boxers into my duffel back when all I want to do is sleep. I don't have the energy for this. I take more pills, dry swallowing, and rub my eyes. They're hot and wet. I think about how stupid I am and how I went down this path. I never was smart. I drop the pill bottle next to my knee.

I start crying and coughing.

There's a knock at the door and then the deep, gruff voice I know from my childhood. "Ponyboy, can I come in?" The knob twists but doesn't open; Darry waiting for my reply.

I shake my head no but it doesn't matter because he can't hear me. I cough again and then the blood's there. It's darker this time and clotted.

Darry's voice comes, concerned. "Kiddo?" The door opens. "Oh, Jesus Christ."

"Something's wrong," I tell my oldest brother as he rushes me. I hold my hands out to him, the blood so bright I have to shut my eyes.

XxX

Darry races me to the hospital. He found the pills too – and while he's doing a mighty good job at hollering at me, he's also crying. He's quiet when he does it, making me feel even worse. And when they wheel me into the hospital, he's still crying, still holding that damned pill bottle.

XxX

I can't look at anyone. Soda and Darry sit in my hospital room, talking softly. They think I'm asleep but I know better.

"I knew something was wrong—"

"I should have—"

"It's my fault—"

"What if he—"

"My god, Soda, I know. I know."

XxX

The doctor comes and tells me I have bronchitis. Possibly caused by cigarettes, he says pityingly. "You smoke a lot?"

I go into it point blank. "All the time."

"You know there's a link – a _probable_ link – between cigarettes and cancer of the lungs…"

"I bet you smoke."

The doctor grins, his mustache turning up. "I bet you're right. But that's not what I'm telling you."

"I know what you're telling me."

"You know you're sick, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, then," he says, scribbling me a prescription. He hands it to me and I think, great, more pills. But when he leaves he doesn't mention the pills I've been taking. Apparently, _they_ were legal and that's alright.

XxX

Darry's with the doctor now, getting the news I wanted to hear alone. Low voices in the hallway, choked questions. I dig my palms into my eye sockets so I don't have to see Darry's face when he comes in.

XxX

Getting yelled at by your brother is a sobering experience, especially when you're in a hospital bed and unable to defend yourself.

Soda's pacing, his handsome face, ghost white and drawn. I've been sleeping better than him.

"Three months? You've been coughing up blood for three months and you—you don't tell anyone?"

I bite my lip, playing with the edges of my frayed blanket.

"Kiddo," Soda begs. "You're killing me here. Tell me, what you're thinking. Tell me what I can do."

I swallow a cough. Tasting coppery blood and grimacing inside. "Nothing," I shake my head. "Nothing. It's my fault, Soda."

"What're the pills for?" he snaps. "Why in god-fucking-hell are you taking them?"

"I thought they'd make me better."

"Better than what?"

"Better than this."

Soda's face scrunches up and suddenly I know what it feels like to make both of my brothers cry in less than 24 hours.

XxX

I'm only in the hospital for two days but it feels like an eternity. The doctor lets me go with strict warnings to give up smoking, the possibility of pneumonia looming and some other things I don't pay much attention to.

When Darry brings me back to the house I still have more than two weeks left on my break. I manage an awkward apology to Elizabeth and she starts bawling.

I back away from my brother's girlfriend and head to my bedroom, leaving Darry with my bag. I lock the door behind me.

XxX

_Pardon typos._

_Uber-thanks for all the reviews. You make me gleefully giddy. Please keep at it. And hey, I updated quickly – give me the props._

_XO,_

_Feisty._


	3. Rains on Me

Rains on Me

XxX

Darry takes a leave of absence from work.

Liz works as a secretary at a local law firm, leaving me and Darry alone together. I've never seen my brother more patient. It freaks me out, like everything's gone topsy turvy. I try to fight with him but he just looks sad and old and says nothing except nice things.

Soda comes over after work and sits. He sits on the couch and stares at me. Tries to talk and when I won't he still stays.

Darry flushes the remaining pills he thinks I have. Soda stands in the corner and watches us. Darry asks for my smokes and when I hesitate, his face scares me. Finally, I hand them over, mentioning the fact that I can get more back at school anyway.

XxX

Everyone's gone and I sneak outside for a cigarette I've stolen from Two-Bit. I'm not going to let a little thing like this stop me. I'll smoke and I'll be happy about it. It can't be serious.

I'm under the oak tree in the back yard, in a light jacket, trying not to shake with each puff I take. The snow falls in my hair, my lashes and suddenly, there's a, "What the fuck?" behind me.

I know the voice and wince.

Steve hits me in the face before I can toss the cigarette away.

XxX

"But you have to let me go back," I argue.

"Pony," Darry snarls, "You're 17 and I'll keep you here as long as I goddamn have to." I slink lower in my chair. Steve's spilled the beans about me and the cigarette. Rubbing my sore jaw, I look to Soda for help but he won't meet my eyes.

Instead, Soda glances at Darry. "He can't do it. Darry, he's gotta stay home." My stomach recoils at the tone in my older brother's voice – distressed, pleading.

"Soda—" I start before ending up in a cough. They both jump, watching. "I'll be 18 next year," I say, trying to reason. "What'll you do then?"

"Threatening your big brothers are we?" We all turn as Two-Bit slinks through the front door. "You're not gonna win any points, kid." He hands Darry a piece of paper. Darry gives it a brief glance and then turns his eyes to me.

"Shut up, Two-Bit." He sits on the couch and I notice Darry doesn't tell him to leave. I roll my eyes. And why would he? We're all family.

I cross my arms. "Fine, do what you want. I don't care."

XxX

I can hear Liz and Darry arguing in the kitchen, her voice a higher contrast to Darry's low, rumbling one. There's a loud curse and then a door slams someplace in the house. I flop onto my back, knowing I need to get out of this house. It's dead silent for a moment and then my ears perk up as the linoleum squeaks in the kitchen, the carpet in the hallway and there's a tap at my door.

I don't even bother saying come in because he will whether I answer or not. The shadow of Darry grazes the walls and the bed shifts as he sits down. He sighs and his voice is pained. "You're not going back to school, kiddo."

I shut my eyes, very badly wanting a smoke and to crawl into a corner.

Darry continues, carefully, "If you want, I'll enroll you here at the University of Tulsa. But I'm not letting you go back alone. Soda and I both agree." He waits for me to speak and when I say nothing the bed groans as he stands up. He leans over, brushing hair out of my eyes. "I don't care if you're mad at us for the rest of your life, Ponyboy."

He leaves and I roll over onto my side, staring at the wall with its peeled wallpaper.

XxX

I can't smoke.

I can't do anything I want.

Just when I was out on my own I have to return home. The taste of freedom snapped away like a yo-yo. I'm no dummy; I did it to myself. It just really pisses me off that I'd still rather be doing the wrong thing. Life at school – with the pills and the writing – seemed better than this.

XxX

I tell Darry to enroll me at University of Tulsa and he does. I want to get back so that I can go back. Get out of the house and escape. He returns to work and I stay in the empty house, finishing up the last few days of vacation. If that's what you want to call it.

XxX

I sneak out of the house and go bum smokes down at the local diner. I have one and it hurts like hell. I scribble a story on a paper napkin and leave it at the booth. It wasn't very good anyway.

I get home and Soda's there, sitting outside on the front porch, waiting for someone to arrive. Liz and Darry lock their doors now. Soda, being Soda, always forgets the key. "Where've you been?" he asks. "Darry told me you were home."

I put a finger to my lips. "Don't tell him but I busted out."

Soda's mouth moves into a line. "I brought you some lunch." He gestures to a paper sack resting next to him.

I pull out my keys. "Thanks."

He grabs my arm as I go to pass him. "God damn you, Ponyboy." He's smelled the smoke. "What do you think you're doing?"

XxX

Spring semester starts up in Tulsa. It's easy. But I wasn't worried about school anyway. I made the grades before. Everyone seems so worried about me and school. But I'm not worried; I just have a nasty habit to kick. School's the easy part.

Even though it's not announced, it's made clear that I call if I go out or am late coming home. Granted, I haven't earned my space, but it's annoying nonetheless. At night, I hear Darry pass by my room and pause. I watch the ceiling, pretending to sleep, hoping he goes.

I think about the pills every time I'm in English class. I really want them. They helped, maybe not for the better, but I liked how I felt. It's a good feeling not to be holding the reins when you have for such a long time.

Maybe that's why Two-Bit drinks.

XxX

It's easy. I find some and I buy some. I tell myself they're _in-case-of-emergency-only_.

XxX

I cough up blood when I take a shower. Deep, racking coughs that I pray Darry can't hear while he's watching TV. I watch the red swirl, between my toes, down the drain. I stand in the hot water for ten more minutes and try not to cry.

XxX

It's a bad day. I smoke another cigarette, hiding in the restroom stall like a criminal. I'm not sure who'd see me on campus but paranoia's a pretty picture. I run into a kid from my journalism class – at least I think I know him. I can't be sure these days. Nick Jericho; we slam shoulders and our books go flying. We both mutter apologies and go our own way. I take the bus home and feel lost when I walk inside.

XxX

The front door slams. I glance up from my book, noting the voices. I pick my pencil up and put it down again. My bedroom door opens and I sigh. No one knocks anymore.

Two-Bit has a head full of snow. I arch a brow. "What happened to you?" He leaves the door open and moseys into the room.

"Snow attack at four o'clock."

"You fell into the bank again didn't you?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." He sits on the bed and while I shuffle the papers on my desk. "How's school?"

"So exciting. Today we learned about Occam's Razor and after that why the sky is blue."

"Sarcasm noted. And disliked, kid."

"C'mon Two-Bit." I flip my folder shut. "You don't care what I learned about in class. I went to school with you for four years and this is the first time you've asked me that."

"You're right I don't. Look, kid, I've known you a long time, you're practically the little brother I've always tormented, so I gotta check in on you once in a while."

"I'm okay."

"Are you?" He sniffs the air. "Don't think I can't smell smoke, Ponyboy Curtis."

"Is this how it's gonna go? All sides? You too, man?"

Popping his head in, Darry raps on the bedroom wall with a wooden spoon. I tear my eyes away from my friend as Darry asks, "Two-Bit, you staying for dinner?"

XxX

It's uncomfortable staying with my brother and Liz. I don't know if it's resentment or awkwardness or a combination of the two but something's simmering in the house.

I'm horrible. I'm a shit. It's one thing to wreck my own life; it's another to wreck Darry's.

One night, I break a bowl in the kitchen. Liz doesn't say anything, instead just scraping the broken pieces of glass into the trash. I offer to help with dinner and she politely refuses, telling me to get some rest.

Two days later, I show up at Soda's apartment. "Can I stay with you?"

He opens the door wide, letting me in. "What happened?"

"I'm a jerk." Soda pats my shoulder and takes my duffel bag.

Steve watches me from the corner of the room, lounging on the couch. He snorts. "Took you this long to figure it out?" I give him the finger.

"What'd Darry say?" Soda asks softly.

I shrug, like I'm 14 all over again. "I didn't tell him. I just left."

Soda blinks. "You just—? Oh, Pony."

XxX

Instead of snow, there's a light rain. Soda and Steve's apartment is downtown. They live above a Chinese restaurant, and despite the continuous smell, it's a cozy place. It's dimly lit, a torn leather couch and two recliners making up the living room, large windows facing the street.

Steve's chewing on a nail, I can tell he wants to smoke but is trying to hold back. He shifts his weight as I plop next to him on the couch, resting my elbow on the armrest, chin in my palm. "Wanna watch something else?" An old John Wayne movie is on.

"No thanks."

"You have to sleep on the couch."

"Yeah, I figured."

Amidst gunfire and the yells of cowboys and Indians, Soda's quiet voice can be heard talking to Darry. "He's here…Yeah, I didn't know—No, you don't need to come get him…Darry, Jesus, relax will ya? He's…" I tune Soda out.

Steve gives me a look.

"I know," I say, holding up a hand. "I know."

XxX

My Journalism professor, Professor Simmons catches me as class lets out. He asks if I'm interested in joining the school newspaper. If I do well there's a chance to get a summer internship at the _Tulsa World_. It's tempting.

I tell him I can't plan that far in advance but thanks for the offer.

He chases me down the hall and tells me to think about it.

XxX

We have dinner at Darry's on Sunday. I haven't seen him since I turned tail and ran earlier in the week and when I walk inside the door I can tell he ain't too happy. He lowers his newspaper. "I want to talk to you."

Soda groans. "Not now, Darry."

"I'm sorry," I mutter as the front door smacks my back as Two-Bit tries to weasel inside. I jolt into Soda who steadies me.

"Hey, c'mon," Two-Bit whines. "I brought a pie this time."

I let him in. "It's not home cooked."

"It's a start." He throws an arm around my neck and drags me into the kitchen, leaving Darry and Soda in the living room. "It's cranberry. You'll like it."

I untangle myself from his arm. "Who buys a cranberry pie?"

He looks indignant. "Kathy does."

"To each his own."

"Damn right."

XxX

Liz fusses in the kitchen over baked ham and white dinner rolls while the rest of us laze in the living room. I can tell Darry wants to get me alone so he can have words so I feign interest in his newspaper. The headlines are a blur: Bank Closure, String of Robberies at Woolworth's, Suicide at Cherry Hills; the usual if it bleeds it leads.

When Liz calls us to dinner, I excuse myself and use the bathroom. I take the pills I have stuffed in my pocket.

XxX

That night I write.

I'm not sure how I make it out of dinner and away from Darry's with my leg bouncing as fast as it does. I think I pull it off as well as can be expected. When Soda parks his truck on the street I don't get out. "I'm gonna write," I tell him.

"In here?"

"Yeah."

"You're gonna freeze, Pone."

"I have a coat." I flash him a smile. "Go on. It's quiet out here."

Soda goes.

XxX

Darry shows up the next morning. "Pony, come home."

Soda, in the middle of a bowl of cereal, snaps with a full mouth, "What's wrong with my place?"

"He has his own room. It's quiet. He can study. Closer to school."

"Wow, Dar, you sound like a college brochure," I tell him. "Really sellin' it."

Irritation flashes across Darry's face. "You know what I mean, Ponyboy. Stop being smart." He looks past me to Soda. "Tell him."

Soda pretends to be interested in the cereal box. "Aw, hell, Dar," he murmurs, "As long as he's with one of us, what does it matter?"

While Darry fumes, I silently count the months until I'm 18. Five long ones. And while my brothers have a good reason to try and hold on as long as they can, I'm under constant surveillance. Finally, Darry gets me to agree to go back.

XxX

_Pardon typos._

_SE Hinton owns the Outsiders._

_Many thanks for reading. I appreciate the reviews. _

_XO._

_Feisty_


	4. Cold Toes

Cold Toes

XxX

No time.

I never have any time. Between juggling my brothers – checking in with them, making sure they're ok as they make sure I'm ok, schoolwork and sleepless nights – I can't do anything right.

The words I want to write won't come out.

XxX

Valentine's Day rolls around. Darry takes the weekend off and takes Liz to a cabin up north. She hasn't said much since I've been back. I've been trying to lay low – eat dinner before they get home, do homework in my room.

I tell Darry not to worry, I'll watch the house, water the plants. He stays too long visiting with me in my bedroom as Liz packs and I can tell he's afraid to leave.

XxX

I stay at school late on Friday night to finish an English paper about Spiritual Enlightenment. The subject, randomly assigned, makes me laugh. _Can I get some of that?_

The library's nearly empty; the people who have dates on Valentine's Day are out. I flip the book I'm reading to the back pages, trying to find a source to site.

"Shitty subject too?"

Across from me, a kid drops into the nearest chair. It's Nick Jericho, a sophomore in my English and journalism classes. "Yeah," I mutter. "Spiritual Enlightenment. You?"

He rolls his eyes, keeps his voice low. "Goddamn, Global Fictions. I mean what is that?" Nick splays his hands in front of him, dark hair falling across his face. "I'm not a global person; the farthest I've been out of Tulsa is my cousin's farm in Erwine."

"I dig that."

"So, uh, you planning on joining the paper anytime soon?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Subtle."

"Yeah, don't I know it." Nick knocks a fist against the table. "Sorry, man, Simmons keeps asking me to talk you into it. I'm not a rat, I swear. Figured I'd earn his good grace and maybe an A in class."

"Don't worry about it." I gather the books, stacking them into a tidy pile. I cough once, reminding me that I haven't renewed my prescription. Ever. In fact, I don't even think I filled it.

"You really should though."

"What?"

"Join the paper. I hear the summer internship kicks ass. I'm in the runnin' for it myself."

"I can't right now."

"Why not? I've seen your stuff. You got a good as shot as anyone."

Slipping my jacket on, I stick my paper in the folder and tuck it under my arm. "Like I said, I can't." I push through the double doors, shivering as wind and rain hits me.

Nick follows me out, his boots clomping on the sidewalk. "Just think about it, Curtis. You got time. They don't need an answer until April."

"Look, I probably won't even be here during the summer," I snap, stopping to turn around. "Besides, what's it to you? Why do you give a shit?"

Nick blinks, genuinely surprised and I recognize the look on his face. He just cares.

I used to do that too.

XxX

I'm on the bus, headed home, when I start coughing. The tightness in my chest is tenfold, worse than before. A few of the passengers give me strange glances and I hop off at a stop I wasn't planning on.

XxX

I beg, plead, with the nurse at the front desk to just fill my prescription, to not make a fuss but she makes me wait to see my doctor. I plunk down on a chair in the waiting room, scowling at the wall. I almost get up to leave but can't do it.

It's a busy night at the hospital. A man's wheeled in, girlfriend sobbing at his side; the nurses' conversation at the front desk tells me he choked on a candy heart. I stretch my legs and pick up a newspaper, scanning headlines. Riots in San Francisco, Outbreak of Chinese food poisoning in Downtown Tulsa (I make a note to tell Soda), Woman's Death at Cherry Hills Hospital, State Budget Passed…

The nurse calls my name and I look up.

XxX

Soda has to come get me.

They won't release me without a guardian. When he gets there he stands in the doorway of the room, nodding at everything the doctor says; breathing treatments, advanced stage, blah, blah, blah. Soda's face is emotionless, a trait he's picked up from Darry. He takes the prescription and pockets it.

He doesn't speak to me the entire ride home.

XxX

When Darry gets back from his trip he wants to talk. "You gotta quit, Pone." He sits on the edge of my bed, balled fists resting on his knees. "You gotta take your prescription."

I'm pacing the small space on the opposite side of the bed, near the window. "I know. I know. I will. I just—"

"When? When you're too far gone and it doesn't matter? I'm telling you, Ponyboy, those smokes, they're wrecking you inside. You can't keep sneaking around and smoking…" I let him talk, watching the sky through the window. A raincloud's brewing, coming toward us—

"Are you fucking listening to me?"

It's the f-word that makes me turn, a raw, guttural growl. I don't think I've ever heard Darry use it – at least in my presence. I sit down at my desk. He leans over and retrieves my trash can, with its wads of balled up paper and broken pencils. He holds it out to me and shakes it.

"Throw 'em out." When I don't, he barks, "Right now, Ponyboy." I watch his face as I toss the smokes away, pack by pack. It makes me sick to my stomach. He stands.

Darry leaves, taking the trash with him.

XxX

Have you ever tried to quit smoking? I mean _really_ quit.

It's like you have the worst case of the flu in the entire world. My whole body aches and cramps and hurts. I shake; I'm cold, I sweat. Nothing can help. I snap at everyone. And the most annoying thing about it is that they're patient.

Only Steve bitches at me and for that I'm grateful.

I'm frustrating. I'd rather die than quit. I announce this to Darry one night over dinner and he yells. I yell back and things don't get any better.

XxX

I start taking the pills again like I used to at school.

I know.

_I know._

I justify. If I can't smoke, I need something. _Anything_.

It's recreational. A habit. A bad one but I'm doing okay. I pop them at night, when I'm alone in my room. That way Darry never knows and I can write my words until morning. It's sick I need a little pill to make it flow, to make myself numb, but that's what it takes.

I just write. I just go, go, go.

XxX

Mr. Simmons gives us an assignment over Spring Break. Partner up and report on a r___eal-life news story. Groans erupt in class at the thought of homework over vacation. It doesn't really bother me – I don't have anything better to do. _

Nick swings his chair around and points at me. "Want to catch some crime?"

I crack a grin. "Sure."

XxX

"Want some?" I ask Liz, pointing at the pan of scramble eggs I've just made for dinner. I take a forkful and chew fast, eager to get out of the kitchen.

She shakes her head, black hair swinging like a curtain. "You could have eaten with us."

"Oh. Uh, thanks, but I uh," I reach out and grab my bag from the table, "got an assignment. Someone's picking me up." Nick has called less than five minutes ago, telling me he has some sort of plan.

Her eyes narrow. She doesn't believe me. Uncomfortable, I scarf the last bite, rinse the plate and turn too quickly, slamming my leg into the wall. "Shit!" I back up. "Tell, uh, tell Darry I went out and that – ow!" Again, I smack into the buffet table."Damn it," I mutter. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"You know, Ponyboy," Liz says and her eyes are sad. "I can't believe someone hasn't asked you that yet."

XxX

Tall and lean with a bushy beard and thick dark eyebrows, Nick reminds me Bob Dylan. I tell him this and he laughs. "You got some imagination there, Curtis. I can barely carry a tune."

Nick and I are parked outside a Piggly Wiggly, where a recent string of robberies have occurred. It's nearing eleven at night, the moon round in the sky above. Rain drops splat against the windshield, obscuring our vision.

I stifle a yawn. "You know, when you said, catch some crime, I didn't think you actually meant it. I mean, what if it really gets robbed? You gonna throw your notebook at him? Give him a paper cut?"

"I'll think of something."

This time I do yawn. "I'm sure you will. You know—What?" Nick's giving me a strange grin. "What is it?"

"I know who are." He drums his pencil against the dashboard. "I thought I did…you're that kid who was in that fire." I shift awkwardly. "Yeah, those socs attacked you a few years ago and you had to-"

I laugh in disbelief. "Wait. What?"

"What?"

"I uh, I think you're one of the only people I've ever heard put the blame on the soc."

Nick cocks a brow. "Nahhh…"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's how I read it." He shrugs, sinking lower into the driver's seat, the leather squeaking. Nick twists reaching into the backseat and pulling his jacket into his lap. Stuffing a hand into its pocket he pulls out a familiar brand. "Want a cigarette?"

It's the hardest thing I've ever done. "No, thanks."

"You don't smoke?"

"Can't."

"Oh." He doesn't ask any more questions, instead putting the cigarette back into the pack and tucking it away in his jacket.

XxX

"I know what you meant," I tell Liz a few days later. For living in the same house we sure manage to avoid each other. She stiffens at the table but lowers her cup of coffee, setting it on top of the newspaper, covering an article about Cherry Hills.

"I didn't mean to be cruel."

"It's okay. You're right."

She sighs. "You're like my kid, Ponyboy. I'm just disappointed. Your brother is a mess." And she looks so angry, it's a wonder she doesn't hit me. She is right though; I'm not her kid. She didn't want this at 23. Her and Darry, they had a nice, happy life.

I linger in the doorway, rubbing a hand against the faded wallpaper. "Don't worry. I'm gonna move out when I turn 18."

Liz takes a sip of black coffee. "Maybe it's for the best."

XxX

_Pardon typos._

_SE Hinton owns the Outsiders._

_Thank you for reading and please review. You guys rock._

_XO,_

_Feisty_


	5. Brother

Brother

XxX

Every day of spring break, Nick and I try and hunt down a story. When the days get late and we get hungry, we give up and go play pool down at Old Joe's. We brainstorm.

Nick hopes a tornado hits the town and I tell him he has issues.

As I'm chalking the tip of my cue stick, Nick slides a piece of paper my way. It's the application for internship at the _Tulsa World_.

"Forget it."

"Now who has issues?" he asks.

XxX

Two-Bit's talking marriage.

"Is she pregnant?" Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Soda's face as he asks this question but he seems okay. Not a flinch.

Steve rubs a hand through his hair, telling Two-Bit he's crazy. Soda laughs, sorting through the ten decks of cards they own until he finds a complete set. "I already live with her," Two-Bit shrugs. "May as well get it over with."

Steve and I groan in unison. "Yeah, you be sure to propose that way, buddy. Say those exact words."

"That'll get her," I add.

XxX

It's late when the phone rings. At least late for Darry. "Hello?" I try to whisper.

"Curtis," Nick says, sounding smug. "We got a goddamn story."

"Yeah?"

"I'll be outside in five."

I slip my jacket on, my shoes and am out the door without a word.

XxX

"Where'd you get that?" The backseat crackles and I find myself staring at an honest-to-god police scanner.

"Would you believe I found it?"

"Nope."

"How about stole?"

"That sounds about right. Nick, we can't use that…isn't that like…cheating…?"

"It's a competitive advantage, Ponyboy."

I'll call bullshit when I see it but Nick's got a point.

XxX

"Oh, holy shit!" I slap both hands on the car dash, watching the apartment building in front of us go up in flames. When Nick has said we'd find a story, I wasn't literally expecting to stumble onto one.

We're on the seedier side of town, known for its crime and drug deals. A policeman, already on the scene, hollers at us. Nick tells him we're press and flashes something I have no idea how in the hell he got. The fuzz waves us through.

There's ash and flame, people standing around gawking. We interview witnesses and they give us gossip, letting us separate fact and fiction. It's good stuff, though. I can't doubt that. My hands shake as I take notes. I cough hard amidst the smoke. Someone tells me I need a cigarette and I tuck the one they hand me behind my ear.

When the real press shows up, Nick pulls me away. "First on the scene, Curtis." He slams his hands against the steering wheel. "First on the goddamn, scene."

XxX

I walk through the front door.

"Jesus, what happened to you?"

"I got a story." I wave my notes in front of a frowning Darry and Liz. They were relaxing on the couch, curled into each other, now Darry's practically lurched forward. "There was a fire."

"I can see that Ponyboy. Were you in it?" When I'm silent Darry nods my way. "You smell like barbeque and your clothes…"

"Oh." I brush dust from my shirt, tasting soot in my mouth. I cough but manage to keep it short. "Some apartment burned down on the south side." Darry's frown deepens but he doesn't say a thing.

I clean myself up, washing ash off my face. When I find the cigarette tucked behind my ear, I nearly have a heart attack. I rip the stick in two, flushing it down the toilet and thanking God Darry hasn't seen it.

XxX

Nick and I get our story published. This time my name is on the front page, not a 2 x 2 square shoved next to the op-ed's in the back of the paper.

I don't show the clipping to Darry and Soda.

Even though I kind of want to.

XxX

I can't stop coughing. I try to hide it but can't. One night, Soda catches me hacking up a lung as I'm trying to finish up my homework. He rests a hand on my back; it rises with each jerky breath I take.

XxX

The next morning, Soda takes me to the hospital for breathing treatments. He doesn't believe that I haven't been smoking. It stings.

"You swear?" he asks.

The nurse affixes an oxygen mask over my mouth. I pull it away before she can give me a dirty look. "I swear, Soda. I ain't been smoking." I put the mask back on, readjusting.

"You know what Darry said."

I scowl at him. "Yeah, because _this_ is fun."

"This," he shoots back. "Will help you." He settles back in the chair and starts simultaneously chattering about girls and cars and flipping through the newspaper. He makes me dizzy and all I can do is watch him.

He's about halfway through the paper, our conversation having died off, the oxygen making me woozy, when something catches my eye. It's a news article and I know it's the fourth I've seen since Christmas.

"Soda." I snap my fingers, tugging the mask off. I scoot forward on the bed. "Can I have that for a sec?"

He hands over the paper. There on the buried at the back of the _Tulsa World_ is an article about another death at Cherry Hills Hospital.

XxX

I turn in my application for the internship spot.

Then, I head down to the library and start pulling all the newspapers for the last six months. I find what I want on microfiche. Four deaths in the last sixth months at Cherry Hills hospital. Each one a suicide.

Wanting to read the stories in private, I print each article off, stuffing them in my backpack. I walk the entire way home. When I get there, I sit on the front steps, winded.

XxX

I have dinner with Darry and Liz that night. I eat fast, more out of eagerness to read the news clippings than to get out from under the watchful eye of my brother's girlfriend. She's just honest. I can't fault her. But Darry senses something's off, trying to get the two of us to engage in conversation.

It fails.

She asks me about my day and I tell her I found a nickel. _Idiot_, I think as Darry gives me a look. Finally finished, I escape to my room.

XxX

Each one is a suicide. I read fast, memorizing names, my hands stained black from the ink.

_Paul MacBrayer, 52, A 52-year-old patient at has died after hanging himself in his bedroom…_

_Doug St. John, 38, …__the patient, was found hanging in his seclusion room…_

_Luke Cooper, 25, …discovered that he had cut his wrists and taken several pills…_

_Joanie Banks, 19, ...was found by nurses lying semi-conscious on her bed after taking 39 pills._

The girl who overdosed on pills makes me wince. I think of the five pills tucked in a Kleenex in my sock drawer. And I wonder how she got that many pills herself in a mental health facility.

XxX

I don't mention the articles to Darry or Soda. Not even Nick. Besides, it's my imagination. But late at night, I scour the paper for news. Cherry Hills never issues any statements. The articles were buried so deep within the newspaper it's a wonder I even found them.

The pills make me crazy. Sometimes, I feel the way I did that day in my bedroom, ready to bawl and storm out of the house and forget this place. I try to switch it up; one pill a week for a while, then a pill every day. Either way, I don't think I'm doing myself any favors.

XxX

A manila envelope comes in the mail. I know what it is, don't want to open it, but I do. The internship acceptance. "_Congratulations…the first freshmen in our program… Two students chosen out of more than 500…"_

I chew a nail and decide not to tell my brothers until I decide what to do. I hide the letter underneath my mattress, slip my shoes on and call Nick from the payphone down the street.

XxX

April turns into May. I finish the freshman year, bringing home straight A's. Darry's proud, giving me a hug and telling me he knew I could do it.

Even though it's a lie, I take it.

XxX

Liz wants to throw a party. Darry wants a BBQ. They compromise. She invites ten friends he's never met. Darry keeps it at just the gang – with one or two friends from work thrown in.

I watch Liz unpack groceries and prep punch and adjust her hair. Darry buys paper plates and cases of beer and I'm thinking there's no way in hell this party's going to go as planned.

XxX

"Go ahead."

Two-Bit's worried. "You sure?"

"Yeah, it's okay. I know you wanna smoke. You shouldn't suffer with me." He still looks doubtful and I wave a hand in front of my face. "We're outside, there's a breeze."

"What if I fart?" He pulls out a smoke and a matchbook.

"I'm leaving," I tell him and go join Sodapop at the picnic table Liz has set up in the backyard. He's flirting with a pair of Liz's girlfriends. Darry's at the grill; Kathy and Steve are chatting up two other people I've never met before. I watch Two-Bit smoke on the porch, drinking in nicotine.

XxX

It starts to rain. The clouds brew in and then let loose. People yelp, snatching up plates and condiments and running to the house. Two-Bit grabs up the beer and Kathy's hand. I help Darry turn the grill off and gather the rest of the food. We follow Liz and Soda inside, Liz using the newspaper as a rain shield, holding it high above her head.

I see a flash of headline – _Jumper at Cherry Hills Hospital – _andhurry up behind Liz. "Oh, you gotta be shitting me," I murmur, ripping the paper away from her hands as she's almost up the steps.

I scare her.

"Ponyboy!" she shrieks, glaring at me like I'm off my rocker. "What's wrong with you?" Soda, waiting, holding the door open for everyone, seems to freeze. His eyes narrow.

"Pone," Darry admonishes, moving around me.

"Sorry, sorry." I shove the paper back at her. She tells me keep it and stalks inside.

XxX

Inside it's crowded as cliques move off to corners. Liz fusses in the kitchen, Darry and Soda talking in low voices. I take myself and my paper into my room, embarrassed, but also annoyed. I sit on the edge of the bed, reading the article fast.

_A 22 year-old student committed suicide by jumping from the 20th floor of Cherry Hills hospital. The incident occurred Sunday, around 11 a.m. Witnesses said they saw a man climb onto the ledge of the building and then leap. Ideas as to how the man managed to make it onto the ledge are—_

I look up as the door opens. I fold the paper in half. It's Darry, telling me to come out, join the party.

I put the newspaper on my desk.

XxX

An hour later, everyone's having a fine old time thanks to the beer.

Soda and Steve have suckered a few guys into a poker game and I know somebody's money will be lost tonight. The girls are smoking outside, crisp cackles filling the air. I sip at my Coke and stare off into space.

Soda plops next to me on the couch. "Pone?" He gives me a shake. "You're zonin' out, kiddo."

"Thinking," I tell him.

"You want to play?"

"Play what?"

"The game. Poker?" Soda's drunk and I hope he goes home with one of Liz's friends tonight. He smiles goofily when I shake my head. "You're funny, Pone." He ruffles my hair and goes to the table where Steve's laying down the rules with righteous authority.

I watch people. Darry looks happy, bullshitting with friends, kissing Liz's temple.

I replay the article in my brain, contemplating accepting the summer job at the newspaper.

XxX

By the time they all clear out it's midnight. Darry walks Steve and Soda outside, their loud voices disappearing as the front door swings shut. Liz is puttering around in the kitchen, washing glassware and throwing away paper plates.

I try to make amends. "Need any help?"

"No, it's okay, Ponyboy."

"Listen, I'm sorry about earlier…with the paper…" I rub the back of my head, embarrassed. "I don't know what got into me."

Liz rolls the chips up, sticking them in the cupboard. She doesn't say anything and moves onto scraping leftover hot dogs into the trash. Finally she says, "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

I give her a shrug. "It's okay. I'll be out of here in a month or so."

"Ponyboy…"

"No, you're right. I need to move out; I shouldn't be here anyway…"

Liz stacks plates. "I…I just think it would be for the best."

"Yeah…I know I'm…" I rub my eyes, all of a sudden hitting a low. "…Messing things up for you. I need to leave…"

"Pony, it's not that—"

"You told him _what_?"

I don't even turn around. Liz's face is enough to know Darry's behind me. Her eyes are big blue orbs, looking over my shoulder and up. "Darrel," she says. "I—I didn't mean—"

"You told Ponyboy he should move out?" Thick footsteps sound as Darry walks around me to stand in the middle of the kitchen. He crosses his arms. His eyes flash the ice I know so well. "You said that to my brother?"

"Darry, it's not her fault. She's right I need to—"

"Ponyboy, can you give us a minute?" Darry's looking at me like it's not a request, like he's so goddamn pissed I better get while the getting's good. And while he's not pissed at me, I feel for Liz; I know what a scolding from Darry feels like.

I retreat to my bedroom. Darry and Liz fight for the next two hours, their voices shaking the walls.

XxX

_Pardon typos._

_Please review._

_XO,_

_Feisty_


	6. Secrets of the Silent Variety

Secrets of the Silent Variety

Morning comes fast.

"Shit," I swear, slamming my thumb in my dresser door. "Damn it!" I bite my tongue, hoping Darry's still asleep, grab my notes, my bag, and slink out the front door. The kitchen's still a disaster from last night and I hope that's all the collateral damage.

XxX

I meet Nick down at the diner and tell him few things. I tell him that I've probably, royally screwed up things between Darry and Liz. I tell him I'm accepting the internship and that even though I should be headed back to school and away from Tulsa as soon as I hit 18 I'll stay for his sorry ass.

I also mention Cherry Hills.

He listens as I describe what's been happening. I show him notes and clippings. When I'm done, he sits back in the booth, drums his fingers on the table and says. "Let's wait and see if you're right, Curtis. But whatever it is, if it happens, I want in."

XxX

I don't go back to the house for two weeks.

I stay with Soda. He isn't amused; seeing red over what Liz has said and won't hear any of my explanations for her behavior. Soda hugs me. "You're too nice, Pony," he says. Somehow, I doubt this.

Darry calls and apologizes. His voice sounds hoarse over the phone. He doesn't ask me to come back.

Soda takes me to a movie and Steve comes along. My leg won't stop jumping in the dark. The urge for a cigarette lingers.

Soda and Steve go to work. Having nowhere to go during the day, I pace the hot apartment. I write gibberish. I cave. I push open the window and I don't care.

The cigarette is worth it.

XxX

While I'm staying with Soda, Nick and I go meet with Adam Levin, the editor-in-chief of the _Tulsa World_ and our supervisor for the summer. He spends ten minutes going over our schedule with us: unpaid, 11am-4pm, weekdays, starts June 1st to August 1st.

Frankly put, he's a dick.

"We're gonna be fetching coffee, ain't we?" Nick asks as we leave the downtown office.

"Big time."

But it's a job, something to get me experience, get me out of the house. Now all I have to do is tell my brothers. I'm not sure how they'll take it. They're worried I'll move out; both of them telling me to take it easy this summer. For me, it's anything but easy.

XxX

Darry picks me up and takes me home. He keeps saying he's sorry, his fists wrapped tight around the steering wheel. I tell him he doesn't have to apologize. "I don't wanna screw things up. Liz is right. She shouldn't have to babysit me."

"No," Darry says and I hear the anger still simmering. "She doesn't get to talk to you like that. And don't you _ever_ think you have to leave."

I'm afraid to ask if Liz still lives there when we pull into the empty driveway.

XxX

The tenseness in the house makes me want to explode.

Liz is still there, which is a relief to me because no way did I want to be the cause of Darry's breakup. But she's quiet and contrite, cornering me in the bathroom to apologize after I get home. I tell her it doesn't matter and she looks like she wants to say a whole lot more but doesn't.

Darry ignores her. When they do speak, it's formal and staccato, like two professionals discussing taxes or medical charts. I try to talk to my brother about it but he doesn't want to hear it. He says I shouldn't worry, it's not my problem.

I stay out of the way and keep my head down.

XxX

I wake up in the middle of the night coughing blood.

I head to the kitchen for a glass of water, spitting angrily in the sink. I turn the faucet on and let the water flow. I spit again and shut it off. Bleakly, I stare at water spots in the dark. I sit down at the table. I've been clean for a month; I smoke one goddamn stick and then this.

XxX

Two-Bit drags me along to look at engagement rings. I feel like an imposter entering the nice jewelry shop in our t-shirts and jeans, looking like hoods. Two-Bit moseys through the store like he owns the place. He taps glass, leaving greasy handprints.

"What about this one?"

I glance at the ring briefly. "I don't know, man." I check over my shoulder, nervous. "I mean, this is weird. Why can't you just do it?"

"C'mon, kid, you're my wingman. Besides, I need your opinion and you're the closest thing to a girl I know."

I hit him. "Thanks a lot."

A saleswoman stops by, offering to help Two-Bit and I slink off. It's strange seeing Two-Bit come to this point – a job, a possible wife? I shake my head, feeling sick. I lean against a case and chew a nail until Two-Bit bounds over, followed by the saleswoman.

"Where'd you go?"

"I'm here. Did you pick one?"

"How about this?" He shows me silver ring with diamonds and a stone. It looks like jewelry to me.

"It's nice," I say. "Can you afford it?"

"In about three months," he says. "Prepare the countdown." He hands it back to the woman. "Not today fair lady. But soon, I shall be betrothed."

"Lord help us," I tell her.

XxX

There's a light touch on the back of my neck. "Jesus Christ!" I jump, knocking the papers I'm pouring over off my desk and onto the floor. The whole collection of clippings, scattered like leaves. The notebook beside me, a scarred black line where my pencil has broken.

"Shit!" Darry swears, backing away. "I'm sorry, Ponyboy. I didn't mean to scare you." He's standing in my room, the door open; I must not have heard him come in. He sticks his hands in his pockets, face pale.

"It's okay." I slide off my chair, bending to pick up the mess of papers.

"What're you doin anyway?" Darry asks, still watching me. "You've been in here all night."

"Just…research. Maybe found a story or something…I don't know…" I curse myself, knowing I should have waited until later to take a pill. My hands are all jittery, barely able to hold the articles.

Darry squats beside me, helping me gather papers. When Darry speaks next, his voice is quiet, careful. "You be sure not to push yourself too hard."

"It's fine." I keep my eyes on the brown carpet below me. My hair falls across my face and I swipe it away. "I'm fine. I don't know what you want from me. I'm trying here, Dar."

"I know you are kiddo. Soda and I – we're just—"

"Yeah, I get it. Worried." I sit back on my heels. I look Darry in the eye. "I got a job."

"A job? Where? What?"

"At the newspaper. It's an unpaid internship." I shrug. "For the summer."

"So…" Darry says slowly, "you're staying here."

"For now."

"Okay." Darry's hands tremble as he hands me back my pile of papers. "I'm real glad, Ponyboy. Real glad."

XxX

May's a hot month. Air conditioners break, thunderstorms keep rolling in, the streets are quiet.

For the next two weeks until the internship starts, Nick and I research. As much as we can do for two meager college students, we pull backgrounds, names, take notes, ask questions on notepads. It doesn't make much sense to me – all I know is that it's too coincidental.

Me, Darry and Soda all go out to dinner one night. It's weird and formal until I realize they just want to congratulate me on the internship. Soda hands me a new notebook, the pages lined and free of words. I feel like an idiot and stop being nervous. The night turns out alright. Afterwards, we go play pool and run into Nick. My brothers shake hands, size him up and invite him to hang out. Nick ends up beating Sodapop at a game and I have to laugh.

Liz and Darry continue their quiet fight. I start thinking about moving out. Where, I'm not sure. Maybe Sodapop's. I almost can't wait to pull the _I'm-now-18_ –card in a month and head back to the University of Oklahoma. Sometimes it doesn't seem like such a bad idea.

XxX

I wake up, my feet dragging along the floor. I toss a t-shirt on. I stop in front of the bedroom door, taking a moment to acknowledge the fact that I truly feel like shit. I rub my chest and make my way to the kitchen.

The morning's silent. I make a pot of coffee, lean against the counter and watch it brew. I cough and spit phlegm into the sink. Shaking off the chill, I cross my arms. Tomorrow, it's the first of June. I start my internship. The last thing I need is to get sick. I eye the coffee, debating whether to pour myself a cup or head back to bed.

Before I can decide, I start coughing and wind up in the bathroom, bent over the sink, feeling like I'm letting loose a lung. The door opens and I hold up a finger signaling Darry to wait. But it's not Darry, it's Liz.

She's frowning, I tell her it's okay. She reaches out, touches my face. Her eyes go wide.

XxX

"This is great," I snap at the doctor. He's standing over me, smirking, handing the nurse back the thermometer. "Just – Just get it down. I can't stay here." I think of the internship and know I can't miss it.

The doctor scribbles notes, mutters some doctor-speak to the nurse and she nods. Liz is pacing, worried. She just called Darry. I stare at the wall.

I'd really like people to stop calling Darry.

XxX

I swallow four ibuprofen, hoping that gets my 102 temperature down to normal. The doctor is telling me that my bronchitis is now bordering on pneumonia. "Fever and chest pain are part of the deal."

I glare at him. This doctor's a pain in my ass. "I quit smoking."

He gives me a look; I can tell he's not a fan of me either. "Cheating every now and then doesn't count as quitting."

My face burns. "Can I go?" I haven't even bothered to change into a gown, wanting to get the point across that I'm not staying.

He clicks his pen. "No. I'm admitting you for the night. You can leave in the morning."

"But—But that's bull—"

"Ponyboy," Liz speaks up. She stands up from the chair in the corner of the room and takes a step toward us, looking very scared. "You know Darry's going to make you stay."

"Well, he's not here now, is he?" I say. In fact, it's been about an hour minutes and I'm hoping Darry forgot about me. "I could just sneak out."

"Technically, you need a guardian to sign you out, son," the doctor says. "You're still 17. Now put that gown on and get into bed. I'll send the nurse in to give you some ice chips and check in on you later."

He clicks his pen again, shakes hands with Liz and walks out. The door swings shut and I give it the finger.

XxX

Darry arrives, flustered. Liz and I can hear his voice booming down the hall before he even enters the room. When he walks in, his face is red, his five o'clock shadow standing out heavily. He's tired.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he's asking, standing stiffly, like he's too afraid to come any closer.

XxX

"I'm going, Dar," I tell my brother the next morning, tugging my shoe on. "I ain't missing this."

It's early the next morning and I'm hopping around in my stupid hospital gown and jeans, trying to put tennis shoes on while Darry watches me. He sent Liz home long ago, giving her a grunt of thanks but not much else.

Darry slept in the chair overnight. It can't have done much for his back.

"I ain't," I repeat. I trip over a lace and nearly slam into the window before catching myself.

Darry smears his face in his hands. "Go, Ponyboy. But get your ass home as soon as you're done."

XxX

"Jesus!" Nick says the next morning. He's waiting for me at the corner, near a phone booth. "What the hell, Curtis? I tried calling – I waited to pick up your sorry ass this morning."

"I know, I'm sorry." I grab his arm, tugging him across the parking lot to the _Tulsa World_ office. "It's been a long night."

"You almost made us late."

"Yeah, well I woke up at the ass-crack of dawn to take a damn bus down here so sue me."

We don't say another word until we get inside.

XxX

Introductions go fast. We meet so many people it's hard to keep track of all the names. Adam – the editor-in-chief – assigns us to desks that are practically the size of coat closets. Despite this, Nick and I can't keep silly grins off our faces. We actually have desks.

For the first week, it's newsroom orientation. "Shadow, learn, ask questions," Adam barks, walking fast. "Edit copy. File papers. Get coffee."

Nick rolls his eyes, giving me a _I-Knew-It_ look.

"We have high journalistic standards here," Adam says. "We want you to do your best and make us proud." He goes on to assign Nick and I to the Tulsa Metro news department. I try not to smile at our luck. "Here," he continues, "you'll report and write stories under an assigned editor or senior reporter. You'll get your man next week. If you're lucky and it's a good story, you'll get a byline."

"Now remember," Adam says when we're all done with the tour. He steps back and looks at us. "Two creams, no sugar."

XxX

When I get home from my first day five pills bottles are lined up on the counter. I pick them up, reading my name on the label, the dosage and the drug. My hands shake, telling me it's time for a different type of pill.

"These are all mine?" I ask Soda, who's walking into the kitchen. He met us at the hospital last night on his way to a date. I told him he couldn't cancel because of me. Even Darry had backed me up.

"Yeah. Darry filled your prescription. How are you feeling?" He puts a hand on my forehead and frowns.

"I'm fine, Soda." I start opening the cupboards, unaware for what I'm looking for. I just talk. "How was your date?"

He's still frowning, still not saying anything, so I start talking. "My day was pretty cool. I mean, Adam's kind of a prick but then he's the editor so Nick figures that after we start getting coffee and meet some people that we—What?"

Soda's staring at me. "Nothing. I just want you to be okay. You'd tell me if you weren't right?"

I don't know what to say so I just keep searching in the cupboards.

XxX

I go to my room, take _my_ pill and pour over news articles Nick and I have dug up. Darry's still not home from work, probably having to work overtime on account of me. The internship today struck some life and all I want to do is read, research and write. Being in an actual newsroom hit a vein. Although I'm not sure what kind.

I cough and it hurts. Like hell. I read until about midnight and then my hands shake. I come down and a kind of sadness sets in. The sadness like before – where I want to cry for no reason. I don't know what I'm doing. I fall asleep with the light on, a pencil in my hand.

XxX

I'm good. I take my prescriptions, avoid smokes and throw myself into my job. I still take the pills but that doesn't matter. They make me good at what I do. I'm fine.

The first week goes fast. We fetch coffee and do internship stuff. I figure we have to earn our keep but Nick bitches the entire time. He reminds me of Steve.

Nick papers our small office with origami. He shoots pencils into the ceiling above. We hover over articles and edit in red pen.

We don't take lunch breaks; instead doing our own research on Cherry Hills, using the newspaper's records and notes. As we dig deeper, it seems like too big of a thing to handle on our own. I tell this to Nick and he nods. "If another one dies, we'll tell someone. We'll see what they say."

I read the newspaper every morning it's delivered.

XxX

Nick and I get assigned to a senior reporter named Max Bahns. I've seen his name in print before – he likes the bleed and lead stories. He spends one day with us and then turns us loose. Max wears dark glasses and smokes a pipe. He takes long lunches and according to Nick gets blowjobs in the backseat of his car.

XxX

Steve corners me one day at the house. It's Sunday. Everyone's over for dinner. Liz is cooking, with help from Kathy, and Darry is far, far away, chatting with Two-Bit and Soda. It's awkward. I don't know why we keep pretending.

"You gotta cool it, kid," Steve says, joining me on the porch.

I look away from the sunset. "Cool what?"

"Whatever's screwing you up."

"Whatever, man."

"I'm serious, Ponyboy. Soda's a fuckin mess."

"I'm sorry," I mutter, rubbing my eyes, feeling twitchy. I can't get steady.

"Yeah, well, sorry don't cut it." Steve's voice brings me back. "I see your pupils."

XxX

I have a bad day at work.

Max finds flaws with one of the stories I've wrote. He tics a checklist off on his fingers – sources weren't cited, the headline lacks energy, spelling errors all over the place. He gives me back my piece, telling me to fix it.

He takes Nick along with him to cover a story about high school football teams hazing new players. Nick gives me a sheepish look as they leave.

Swell. Nick's out on assignment while I'm editing copy about a Tulsa man who gets psychic visions.

I groan and scribble an X through one of my paragraphs.

XxX

When I get home I just feel like fighting. Getting chewed out by Max in front of Nick was sobering; it was like Colin all over again. Pissed off at my mistakes, I stayed late to rewrite my assignments, fact-check my articles. Now, my anxiety mixed with my meds has me irked.

Darry's on the couch, watching TV, Liz nowhere to be seen. "Where've you been?" he asks, twisting around to glance at me.

"Worked late."

"If you're hungry, there's some chili in the kitchen."

I sigh, tugging off my jacket. "Where's Liz?"

"Around," Darry grunts, looking back at the TV. My jaw tightens.

"Still giving her the cold shoulder? You oughta just move me out already."

"Jesus, Ponyboy," Darry says.

"C'mon, Dar. She's right. I don't know what the hell I'm doing here."

"Ponyboy, cut the shit. What's going on? What happened?" Darry stands, making a move toward me.

"I can't smoke and this house is killing me. What do you think?" I snap, annoyed at my stubborn brother. I move out of his reach and point a finger his way. "Talk to Liz – either fight or _talk_, like a normal person, but don't give her the silent treatment."

"Ponyboy—"

"No," I tell Darry as he tries to follow me to my bedroom. "Leave me alone."

XxX

I'm brushing my teeth and flipping through the newspaper. The smell of coffee wafts through the house. I lean on the bathroom sink, absentmindedly moving the toothbrush this way and that when I see it. Another suicide. It's at the back of the paper, a small square with the photo of a 17-year-old boy.

I choke, coughing, gagging on the toothbrush. It clatters in the sink and I spit, wiping my mouth. I rip the page out and read it again.

XxX

There's a rap on the door. It's Nick. He's holding the newspaper. "Did you see this?" I let him inside.

I show him my copy. "Yeah. I'm not imagining it, right?"

He plops on the coffee table. "Nope. No way. We gotta tell someone."

"Who? We're not going to the cops."

"I ain't talking about the cops, Ponyboy. This is _our_ story."

"But…why doesn't anyone else see it…?" I say, frustrated. "I feel like it's all in my head."

"It's not. Shit, it's a nut house. Cops got better things to do than worry about that." Nick chews his lip. "You know who we should tell?"

XxX

_SE Hinton owns The Outsiders._

_Pardon any typos._

_AND thank you for the reviews, critiques, feedback. I seriously appreciate all the comments and everyone's take. I think longer chapters will help speed it up...and hope you enjoyed._

_Please read and review._

_XO,_

_Feisty_


	7. Movers and Shakers

Movers and Shakers

XxX

Nick's chewing the end of a pencil. I keep my arms crossed, sitting in my chair, trying not to let my legs bounce. Max keeps his dark glasses on, reading the article I now know by heart:

_Jamie Coleman slit his wrists at Cherry Hills Hospital. The boy, 18, retired to his room yesterday at around 2:40 p.m., police said. He was discovered by the nurse on duty at about 5:00 p.m. that evening. He was taken to St. Joseph's hospital where he was pronounced dead. Sources say…_

Max knows it too. _Tulsa World_ published the story. When he's finished, he folds the paper up like a pro and sets it on top of the notes and clippings Nick and I have compiled. "Tell me kids; you think this is some sort of…?"

Nick and I look at each other. Nick seems hesitant, so I manage, "Conspiracy? Or something. Sir."

We're both waiting for a laugh. Instead, there's a long pause and then Max chortles. He takes his sunglasses off, eyeing Nick. "It's good research. Good theory. You following your hunches?" I stare at the ground; Max doesn't think it's me.

Nick holds his hands up. "Curtis brought me the story. I'm just tagging along."

"Too many coincidences," I say with a wary shrug. "I just thought…"

Max's eyes swivel my way. "You may have something, kid," he says, putting his sunglasses back on. "Give me a few days. Let me talk to some folks."

Nick looks at me. I swallow the lump in my throat.

XxX

I stop by the DX. Before going inside, I pause at the entrance, watching my brother through the glass. He's flirting with a woman at the counter, a wry smile on his face. He cashes her out, gives her another grin and she's on her way, exiting and brushing past me as she leaves. The door swings shut. They don't see me.

Soda and Steve banter inside; I watch their mouths move mutely. After a long moment, I turn around and go home, not sure what I had to say anyway.

XxX

On Friday all of us go down to watch Steve drag race. He's fixed up his truck real nice and wants to give it a go. Kathy, Liz and Evie are there, even Nick tags along. Shiny trucks line the street, dusk falling. Everyone around us is smoking and it's killing me. I start coughing and move away from the crowd, feeling eyes on me.

I sneak off the best I can, a safe distance away from the party. I can make out the forms of my brothers: Soda cheering Steve, Darry watching the race, while talking to Nick. The girls smoke and talk. I'm anxious about the conversation earlier in the week with Max, craving a smoke so bad it hurts. At least my hands are calm, getting me through the day.

Two-Bit finds me, sitting on the tailgate of Darry's truck. "Kiddo, this is not a good look for you."

"What is?"

"This," Two-Bit gestures, "Whole moping act you got going on."

"Yeah, well, I never said I was the life of the party."

He laughs and rubs a thumb down a long sideburn. The smile fades. "Soda says you have pneumonia." Two-Bit cocks his head when he looks at me, his grey eyes flinty.

"Yeah," I say, rubbing my palms on my jeans. "Something like that."

"Shoot, Ponyboy, you gotta take care of yourself." He chuckles, toeing his shoe in the gravel. "And to think I was gonna ask you to be my best man."

"W-What?"

"Yeah, I need a witness and thought you'd work out okay." Two-Bit keeps his voice light but it doesn't help. I'm touched. And afraid. I think of the people in my life I'm letting down. I let loose an achy sigh. I cover my eyes, wetness beneath.

"Shit, Ponyboy," Two-Bit swears, "No need to get sentimental…I was just—Kid?"

I moan into my hands. "I'm still taking those pills."

I can't see his face but Two-Bit stops breathing for a second. "You mean—the pill _pills_, not your medicine?"

"Yeah. _Those_ pills."

"Oh, Jesus—"

"Oh, man. I'm so screwed up…"

"Hey, hey, hey," Two-Bit pries my hands from my face. "What the hell are you thinking, Ponyboy? I mean, what're you _doing_? _Jesus Christ_—"

"You can't tell anyone." I grab Two-Bit's arm. "You can't tell Soda, and definitely not Darry, I mean it, Two-Bit. They'll kill me. I'll quit. I promise. I can't do both. The smokes are already too much and I just—"

"Okay, okay, calm down." Two-Bit scoots closer, his face dark. "Look, I won't say _shit_ to Darry but you gotta try okay?" He sticks a finger in my face. "You gotta try so goddamn hard Ponyboy Curtis because if I keep this to myself and something happens to you…I'll fuckin' kill you myself."

XxX

Max catches us in our office. "Adam wants to put someone on the inside. Do a little investigative journalism."

"It's that easy?" Nick asks, surprised.

"He's got connections. He'll work a deal." Max leans in the doorway, watching a receptionist walk by. He lowers his sunglasses to check her out. When she rounds the corner he turns back to us. His smile is wide. "Let's have a chat."

XxX

The three of us go to a bar on the seedy side of town – _The Ugly Duckling_. With dim lights and murky music it's perfect for a hushed conversation. I pour my meds into my hand underneath the table and swig them down with water.

Nick rolls a shot glass between his knuckles. He's chewing his lip, evaluating what Max has asked us. "Don't get me wrong, I like it, Max. But…I gotta ask…why us?"

"I know you two want a story. You've been gunning for one ever since you started. 'Sides, you brought us the story. Fair's fair."

I arch a brow. "Journalism's fair?"

"Bullshit," Nick says.

Max's laugh cuts through the bar. "I'm likin' you more and more, kid." He downs his scotch. "In all honesty, we're short staffed, no one else wants to do it and—"

"You'll throw us to the wolves," I finish.

"Pretty much, yes," Max says. "But that said…it'd be a really ballsy assignment. Get you somewhere."

Nick frowns. "A byline. Front page?"

"Probably. If it's good. If it's somethin'."

Nick turns to me. "Whaddya think? You wanna commit yourself?"

"What?"

"It's your story."

"Yeah but…"

"C'mon. It's perfect. I'll do the outside…you'll be inside…yeah, man." He raps the table so hard I jump.

Max is staring at me. "What do you say?"

I wrap a hand around my glass of water. Already my mouth's dry, recognizing what it would mean to do this. Cold turkey. Nothing. A commitment I don't know if I want. Or if I'm brave enough to do it.

"I gotta think about it. Okay?"

Max nods. "Okay."

XxX

I've never felt so confused after the conversation I've just had with Max and Nick. I twist the door handle and walk inside my house. The first thing I notice is the silence. The second thing I notice is Darry sitting at the kitchen table. Two-Bit's in the next chair.

I lick my lips, shutting the door behind me. Darry glances my way. "Ponyboy." And just the way he says my name, defeated, hurt, tells me all I need to know. Two-Bit keeps his eyes on the table.

"We need to talk," Darry says.

I stay put, frozen in between the living room and kitchen, a kind of limbo. A kind of I_-don't-need-this-right-now_. "You promised," I tell Two-Bit. My voice sounds loud.

Two-Bit shakes his head. His eyes meet mine. "I couldn't, kid. I'm sorry." He puts a hand across his mouth, elbow resting on the table. I stare at Two-Bit, feeling betrayed.

"Are you still taking those pills?"

"C'mon Dar—"

"I'm not gonna ask you again, Ponyboy. Are you?"

"They're not illegal."

"Ponyboy," Darry says, exasperated. "That's not the point. They're not candy – they're drugs. _Drugs_."

"I'm fine, Darry."

"Fine? That's all you ever say – I mean do you actually believe that?" I don't say anything and Darry starts up again. "Do you understand what I'm telling you? They're turning you into someone I don't even know anymore. It ain't good, Ponyboy."

I scowl at Two-Bit. "Thanks a lot."

"Ponyboy!" Darry snaps.

"Jesus, leave me alone, will ya? I'm fine."

A chair squeaks, diverting my attention. Darry crosses the room in two strides and grabs my arm. "Damn it. You're so smart but my god you're acting like a complete idiot." He shakes me. "Why? Why are you doing this? Why?"

"Darry!" Two-Bit hollers. Darry lets me go.

My face is hot. I back up and sink onto the couch, sticking my hands between my knees. "I don't know. I don't know, Darry."

"Have you been smoking?"

"Once. Just once."

"I told you—" Darry's shaking, his face twisted up. "I told you what would happen if you—" He cuts off, paces toward the kitchen and uproots one of the chairs. It goes flying, slamming against the refrigerator. Two-Bit's eyes are probably as wide as my own.

"What am I supposed to do with you? What?" Darry yells. "You're scaring me, Pone; I'm fucking scared for _you_."

"I don't want any help. I'm fine. You're the one making me stay here. If you'd just let me—"

"C'mon, kid." Two-Bit's voice is soft. "You're not makin this easy."

"You stay out of it. I trusted you and you – you rat me out?"

"Pony, it's not like that."

"Well, it sure as hell looks like it." My eyes feel heavy. "I don't—I don't…" I smear my face in my hands. "I don't want to talk about this. I just want everyone to leave me alone."

"Pony, don't."

"Can you call Sodapop? Can someone just call him?"

XxX

I hole myself up in my bedroom.

Soda comes over and we fight. He's not the gentle brother I remember; when Darry tells him what's been going on he looks like he wants to sock the living daylights out of me. In fact, he nearly does.

XxX

The next morning it's just me, Darry and Soda. We sit at the table and have a family chat. Liz is nowhere to be seen and Darry looks like he's gone twenty rounds in the ring with Ali. Soda can't finish a full sentence, his voice cracking every time.

I give them all the pills they think I have. I apologize and tell them it's over. Done. Finished. I'm gonna try so hard.

Darry puts his head in his hands. He tells me if I don't stop he's going to duct tape my mouth shut, hogtie me and lock me up in the basement. No one laughs. Soda excuses himself from the table and walks out.

XxX

I take my prescription. I ignore Two-Bit. I forget about Tulsa. I don't smoke. But I still have an anchor chained to my leg miles long leading back to Darry and Soda. I don't' know what to do with them.

What I really want to do is look in the mirror and see someone else.

I go to my job, ignoring Nick's questions about why I'm so quiet. He wants to talk about Cherry Hills and I tell him to forget it.

XxX

"Are you okay?" Liz asks one morning. She fills the kitchen sink with hot water and soap. It's one of the first times we've spoken without Darry around.

"Darry hates me doesn't he?"

"He's just worried sick about you, Ponyboy. We both are."

"I don't know what to do." I bite my lip, stopping myself.

"About what?"

"Nothing. Everything." I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Never mind. I don't know what I'm saying."

Her eyes narrow. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"No, I'm okay, Liz."

"Pony." Her hands twist around the towel she's holding.

XxX

I find an old ashtray of mine, buried in the drawer of my nightstand and take a deep breath. I shove it back into its spot and shut the door. I think of Cherry Hills and I think of my brothers and I call someone I used to know.

XxX

"'lo?"

"Colin? It's Ponyboy Curtis – I uh, I'm not sure if you remember me or—"

"Sure, I remember you." He laughs. "What's up, Curtis? I got a deadline."

I take a breath. "What if – what if there's something you gotta do but can't?"

"Did I teach you 'can't'?"

"No."

"Then do it. Make yourself. You'll be laughing when your name's in the paper – Oh, wait, you're the bleeding heart. You don't want glory." He snorts roughly. "Okay, okay, fine. You'll be laughing when you save someone's life."

I hang up the phone.

XxX

"Can I borrow your truck?"

My two brothers are huddled in the kitchen, talking quietly and when I approach they both wince. They do this a lot lately, lingering suspicion always in the air. Darry looks at my outstretched hand like it's a snake.

"The truck, Dar," I prod.

"You okay?" He's squinting.

"I'm okay."

Soda nudges him. "Give 'em your keys, Darry. He ain't gonna run off."

Darry gives. The keys are cool in my palm.

XxX

Cherry Hills is on the outskirts of town. An old, glorious building, with 20 floors, situated on a 30-acre space, nestled among oak trees and leisurely dirt roads. With five different facilities it's the place to be if you've got a problem in Oklahoma or even the mid-west. According to the articles I've dug up it provides all sorts of treatment for people with mental disorders and addiction. Three of the people who've died come from Ward B. Ward B is the mental health facility. Floor 13.

I let the truck idle across the street. Clouds bloom in the sky, sweeping across the plains.

I remember driving by Cherry Hills with my mom when I was young and not knowing what it was. I thought it was a castle or maybe a haunted house. Now I'm not sure what to think.

XxX

I find towels in Darry's room – freshly washed and folded. There's a photo of Liz and my brother on the dresser, a picture of our parents and one of the three of us. It's creepy being in the room that was my parents and now it's Darry and Liz's. Hastily, I grab a towel and go to get out.

And that's when I see them. Library books scattered on the comforter. Books about addiction and teenage issues and substance abuse…and…

I rush out of the room, ready to fall over.

XxX

The books Darry is hoarding push me over the edge.

I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna help and get help and get better. I can't put my brother's and my friends through my shit. I can't stop on my own and I need a drastic shove forward.

Cherry Hills needs me as much as I need it.

XxX

_Pardon typos. SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. Please review. _

_Many thanks for the previous reads and reviews. Always appreciated for taking the time. _

_XO,_

_Feisty_


	8. Audience

Audience

XxX

"So, you'll do it?"

"I'll do it."

"You sure, Curtis?" Nick asks, despite looking extremely pleased. Max sits on the edge of my desk.

"Yeah," I say. "It's a story." I raise an eyebrow, looking at Max. "It's safe right?"

"Safe, sure," he says. "Anytime you want out, we'll pull you. We'll be there, don't worry."

"Okay." I nod. "Okay."

"I'm proud of you, kid." Max is grinning. "I already know we're gonna get something with this piece."

I put a hand out. "Look, we can't do anything until I turn 18. Darry'd rip me out of there for sure. Especially if he knew what was really goin' on."

Max is gawking. "You're not 18?"

"Not yet," I say. A soft chuckle comes from Nick.

"Well, uh, when is it then? When're you 18?" Max asks, impatient.

"Two weeks or…something. I can't remember." I pinch the bridge of my nose. I really can't.

"Fine. We'll get it set up. I'll let you know." Max sticks a hand out and we shake on it.

Nick gives me a mischievous smile. "Happy birthday to you."

XxX

I walk fast, away from the offices of Tulsa World, down the sidewalk, bypassing gas stations and convenience stores, the cigarettes inside. With each step my nerves shake, my fingers itch, longing to hold a thin white stick between them. And my brain reels, What did you just agree to?

XxX

I think Darry reads the books late at night.

Sometimes I wake, seeing the soft yellow glow of the living room lamp floating under my closed bedroom door. I watch the ceiling and listen to the house settle. I wish I could talk to my brother. I just don't know what to say.

XxX

"Wanna play a game?"

"What?"

"Football?" I hold it up, while Darry blinks at me from his spot in the recliner. "You know…catch?"

Darry chuckles. "Uh, sure, yeah, that'd be great, Pone." And when he tries to throw the chair into a sitting position so fast it groans, like he doesn't want to lose his chance, I see the eagerness in my brother for me to be okay. It makes me hurt.

He squeezes my arm as he goes to put on shoes. I realize I'm holding my breath. I pull my hands into fists. I haven't taken a pill in five days.

I'm good.

I will be good.

XxX

"You got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Are you sure?" Nick rubs his hands on the knees of his jeans. He's perched on the edge of my bed, wanting to rehash Max's plan. It's hot in the house; he's sweating. "It's kind of a lot to take in," he says. Because if you want—"

"I got it, Nick," I snap.

"Shit, sorry."

I plop down in the chair at my desk, trying to ignore my swirling stomach and the plan we came up with today. I turn 18, check in, dig around, check out. That's the easy part. The other parts I don't even want to think about yet; How/If to tell my brothers, the two week max stay, fighting my own addiction while trying to focus on and solve a story. I pick up a pencil, twirl it once and then toss it down. I sink lower in my chair, resting a palm on top of scattered news articles. Glancing down, old copies of the _Tulsa Times_ stare back at me. The black and white photos of the people who've died at Cherry Hills. I have their names and faces memorized. And it scares me something fierce.

XxX

Seven days worth of progress gets flushed down the drain.

The minute I take the first pill, I breathe easier. I haven't been able to think of anything else except Cherry Hills for the last day or so. I'm a ball of nerves, walking around, bumping into things, tripping over my own feet. It's like I'm back from Windrixville all over again.

Disgusted, I throw the remaining pills into the toilet, flush it and sit on the edge of the tub. I rest trembling hands on the knees of my jeans.

XxX

One evening, Darry sits beside me on the couch. I'm flipping through a book, thinking nothing of it until he clears his throat. "You know Pony…" he begins. "Maybe we should talk."

I glance over at him, nervous. Liz is banging around in the kitchen. Darry continues. "Are you uh, under any sort of stress that…uh, Soda and I can help you with?"

My eyes go wide. A question from a book. "Whoa. What? No. No." I scoot away, standing. "I don't want to talk about this, Darry. I'm alright, okay?"

I leave him sitting there on the couch even though I really want to take his help. I want to tell him that I won't be around at home much longer.

XxX

Nick and I try to brainstorm.

"Vacation?"

"Nah, there's the job."

"Fake your own kidnapping."

I roll my eyes. "Glad you're taking this seriously."

"Curtis, just tell them you're moving out."

"Where?"

"I don't know…my house, the Holiday Inn…anywhere." Nick knocks the 8 ball into a corner pocket, fouling and ending his game. "Shit." Nick straightens up. "Does it really matter? I know you wanna be kosher and all with your brothers but you'll be 18. You gotta—"

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter. "I know. You gotta do what you gotta do." I watch Nick rack the balls, setting up a new game. "I just—I just don't want them to worry."

"Why would they worry?"

Even though I know the answer, I don't say anything, instead stepping around Nick. I line up my stick, lean down and break the balls. Two go in at once.

"You gonna be there Saturday?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Nick says.

XxX

Darry raps my door, opens it. "Two-Bit's on the phone."

"I don't want to talk to him."

Darry sighs, shuts the door, reopens it. "You know, Pony, you can't avoid him forever. He's gonna be there tomorrow."

"Yeah, but do I have to be?" I set my notepad aside. The smell of baking chocolate cake infiltrates my room. "C'mon Dar, I really don't feel up to a party or anything."

"Kiddo, it's your birthday. You're only 18 once."

"Yeah." I whistle, leaning back in my chair. "I thought this day would never come."

Darry looks hurt.

XxX

When I wake up the next morning it hits me. Four long years of fighting with Darry, narrowly dodging social services, legally answering to others are over. I'm 18. I can run. I can hide.

I kind of like the bittersweet feeling.

XxX

"Happy Birthday," Liz says when I shuffle out of my bedroom.

"Thanks." I yawn, rubbing my messy hair when there's a hoot from behind me. Turning, I see Soda barreling my way, the screen door clattering shut. I brace myself and then he's swinging me around the kitchen.

"Happy Birthday, kiddo!" my brother sings. He reaches out and ruffles my hair. "What're we gonna do with you now?" Soda hugs me again. I laugh into his shoulder. When I pull back, Darry's there. Hands in his pockets, looking torn between being happy and stern.

I hold my arms out, grinning. "Can't ground me anymore."

Darry barks out a laugh. "We'll see about that," he says, before stepping up and giving me a hard hug. "Happy Birthday, Ponyboy." His voice sounds muffled – or choked. I can't tell. Finally, Darry lets me go.

"Big day, Pone."

"I guess," I say. "I got work and then—"

Soda interrupts. "Make sure you're home right after."

Something jumps in my stomach; I don't want to be the center of attention. I look at my big brother. "Aw, Darry, I said I didn't want a party or anything."

Liz, who's been watching us for the past few minutes, says, "C'mon, Pony, it'll be fun." Darry sticks his hands back in his pockets. Soda's jaw jumps.

They're nervous for today too.

XxX

It's inevitable. It's a party. Tulsa style.

After work, we drive down to the lake and everyone's there. Trucks set up ready to tail-gate; Liz, Steve, Evie, Kathy and Two-Bit. Nick's there too. Fishing poles stuck into the ground, lines wading in the water. A grill, burgers and beers. A radio running on batteries. Birthday cake on a wobbly aluminum table.

It's clear they've all put a lot of thought into this. I'm such a shit.

XxX

"You're lookin better these days," Steve says. He gives me a brown bundle wrapped in newspaper.

I nearly choke. "Thanks," I say, embarrassed. Evie's hanging on Steve's arm, hot pink nails wrapped around his bicep. Her smooth forehead crinkles up. As Steve leads her off in the direction of the beer, her tinny voice can still be heard. "Why? What's wrong with him?"

XxX

I have a beer. Because it's my birthday and on this day I've earned it. Because I don't have any more pills and I need something to make it through this. My nerves leading up to Cherry Hills are getting the better of me; it's like chewing on a ball of wire, swallowing it and letting it rot in your stomach.

The beer goes down easy. Darry doesn't say anything but his eyes are on me. So are Two-Bit's.

I mosey away from prying eyes, hovering near the table of snacks Liz has set up. She's on the opposite side, chatting with Evie and Kathy. Liz and Darry aren't what they were but they're better than they used to be. Darry's actually making decent conversation with her these days.

Movement behind me and Nick approaches.

"Some party huh?"

"Ain't too bad."

He hands me another drink. I sniff, unable to smell anything. "What is it?"

"Vodka. Shit, take a drink, Ponyboy, you look like you're gonna combust." I take a sip, wince and then chug half the cup. "It's your birthday, you gotta have some fun."

"Yeah," I nod, and then finish the drink. My stomach's warm. I give Nick back the plastic cup. "Yeah."

XxX

We pick teams for football. I end up on Two-Bit's and Steve's. As Steve and Darry bicker about the rules, Two-Bit corners me. "You know secrets don't make friends, Pone. Not taking my calls ain't so nice either."

My jaw clenches, I stare straight ahead, watching Darry rolls his eyes at something Steve's saying. "I ain't talkin about this with you, Two-Bit."

"C'mon kid." Two-Bit sounds pained. "I had to do it. I wasn't gonna keep my trap shut and have something happen to you again. Your brothers don't deserve that."

I half-laugh, half-scoff. "When you'd get so serious?"

"When you came back to Tulsa. Look, Pony—"

My chest feels tight. Steve calls out a play and I move onto the sidelines, ready to run.

XxX

"…Happy Birthday to youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu…"

I dip low and _poof_ out the candles on the chocolate cake Liz has so expertly baked. "Thanks, thanks," I tell the people gathered, all of the smiling faces in front of me. I think of my parents, suddenly missing them. My face must show it because instantly Soda is pulling me away from the spotlight and telling Liz to cut the cake.

XxX

The sun's setting on the lake. I give it a quick glance before jumping into Darry's truck. It looks different to me. A color of orange I never noticed before.

XxX

Soda spends the night. He crashes in my room, in the bed we used to share. I crawl in next to him and it feels like four years ago. Soda's voice is hollow in the dark. "Were you thinking of mom and dad at the lake?"

"How'd you know?"

"I just did. You looked…young, like Ponyboy."

"What do I look like now?"

Soda chuckles, turning onto his side. "My brother."

I smile in the dark.

XxX

Monday morning, Max comes to me. He breezes through our small office, dark sunglasses on, cigarette smoking. Nick's gone; out chasing some lead. "We got it set up," Max says.

"What?"

He stares at me like I'm stupid. "Jesus, Curtis. Are you 18 or what? We want you to check-in Wednesday."

"This Wednesday?"

"No, in about a year or so. Of course, this Wednesday. What're you thinking? Are you backing out?" Max sounds like a reporter, grilling me.

"No – sorry – just…" I rub my temple. "Just out of it. Sorry. I'm in. I'm still in."

A smile spreads across Max's face. "Well, pull your head out of your ass, kid." He hands me an envelope. "Wednesday, Curtis."

"Wednesday," I repeat.

XxX

Max is thorough, giving me all the information I need. The cover story. His contact phone number, a timeline, questions to ask patients, staff. Tells me he and Nick will visit, tells me to lie my ass off, to not break cover, to stick it out for two weeks.

When he's done he leaves me with a manila envelope and force fed answers, making me an imposter in two lives.

XxX

Tuesday comes. I wake up and go to work. I confirm details with Max and Nick. I've been 18 for four days and I'm already moving out.

XxX

Nick calls me late on Tuesday night. I'm planning to head to Cherry Hills tomorrow morning. I sneak into the kitchen, bypassing Darry who's fallen asleep in the recliner.

"Last night a free man," Nick says. I chuckle. "Are you nervous?"

"Yeah," I admit. "I'm pretty goddamn nervous." I tug the phone deeper into the kitchen, leaning back against the counter.

There's a long sigh. "Don't worry, Curtis. When you're in, I'll tell them where you are."

"Thanks."

"You'll be okay."

I cock an eyebrow. "Are you trying to convince me of that or yourself?"

Nick laughs. "I'm pretty fuckin' nervous myself. I mean we cooked this fucker up." He sighs again. "Okay, well, look, I'll be there Thursday. Hang tight 'til then."

We say goodbye and the line disconnects.

In the dark, the house creaks and settles. I cover Darry with a blanket. A book's propped up on his chest, his breathing even. I tell him I'm sorry.

XxX

XxX

Into the small duffel bag goes my notepad, some jeans, t-shirts, my toothbrush, a photo of my brothers and a copy of "Gone with the Wind". Pausing, I stand in the middle of my room, evaluating what else to take. Max didn't go over this.

I grab the letter I wrote last night from my desk. A sheet of 8.5 x 11 notebook paper folded into thirds. I sling the back over my shoulder, step out of my room and shut the door behind me.

I'm halfway into the living room when Liz flips the light on. I freeze.

Liz sucks in a breath. She has a glass of water in her hand. "Glory, Ponyboy, you scared m—What're you doing?" Her eyes move to my duffel bag.

"You weren't supposed to be awake," I say, trying to crack a grin.

Her face is white. "Ponyboy. What are you doing?"

"I'm moving out, Liz."

She makes a small squeak. "Oh, Pony, you know you don't have to—"

"Give this to Darry." I hold the letter out. She doesn't take it, instead just staring at me. "Just give this to him," I prod.

She snatches it in one quick motion. Liz takes a few steps backward, away from me and then hollers, "Darry!" I flinch at the loud sound and am out the front door before she can yell again. I hit the porch, shielding my eyes against the dim rising sun of morning.

XxX

It kind of feels like a hole. In my chest, in my head, clogged with everything I can't do right.

I swallow three pills that I've saved especially for this occasion. The bus I'm on is headed in the direction of Cherry Hills, a 45-minute drive. Blearily, I watch the people around me. A little boy sitting in his mother's lap is crying. Complaining that he's tired and just wants to sleep.

I ask someone for the time and they just stare at me. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

XxX

I can hear the sound of my footsteps echoing down the hall. The walls are white, sterilized and cautionary. Fluorescent lights above me hum; I wince as I pass under one, shielding my eyes.

When I reach the elevator I step in and punch the button to my floor. The bag at my side is heavy, making me realize I've packed more than enough. I shift it back and forth between my hands.

The ding of the elevator signals my floor and I step off, the doors closing behind me. This floor is the same as the ones below me, clean and disinfected. There's an icy breeze in the hallway and when I reach the double doors, I hesitate. The doors clatter, like bird wings flapping. There's a desk in front of me, a large black woman sitting behind it smoking a cigarette. The air in front of her is a fog of smoke, making me crave what I've been trying to give up for so long.

"Can I help you, honey?" the woman asks, ashing her smoke. Her arms are fat meaty pulps that quiver as she talks. "You need to visit someone? Hours ain't until 10. But you can sign in." She shoves a clipboard at me, the pen dangling from a chain.

My stomach rolls. I step up to the desk, resting my arms across the ceramic top. "I need to check myself in."

She looks at me over her thick glasses. "Excuse me?"

I set my bag on the floor next to my feet. I bite my lip, trying to give myself strength I don't feel at the moment. "Yeah, uh," I pull my wallet out of my back pocket, sliding the ID over to her. "Ponyboy Michael Curtis."

XxX

_Hope this tides you over. Whew. It's a long chapter._

_Pardon typos. SE Hinton owns The Outsiders._

_Please review. They are so welcome. Thank you for all the great feedback on the last chapter._

_Happy Easter! Now go eat some Peeps._

_XO,_

_Feisty._


	9. Paperclip

Paperclip

XxX

The clock on the wall keeps its incessant ticking. Even as I stare at the form for the millionth time, have been holding it for the past ten minutes, I haven't made a dent. The receptionist peers at me over the counter.

"That form ain't gonna fill itself out, darlin'. Get to it." She laughs good-naturedly.

I start scribbling in the required info. Name, age, address, In-Case-of-Emergency contact. Frowning, I pause, and then write down Max and Nick's phone number like they told me. I list the medications I'm on, pills I'm taking and any allergies, which are none to my knowledge.

After a few pages of tedious detail I get to the end. There's a long list asking me to check any symptoms I have or have been experiencing. I go through the options, slashing an X through some of the boxes. Hastily, I check off those that most closely match what some of the other patients who committed suicide were in for and some that I'm here for.

When I'm done, I lean back, ill.

There isn't much of a difference between my problems and theirs. Addiction, Depression, Drug Use, Anxiety...

"Are you finished?"

I blink fast. The receptionist is standing in front of me. "Are you done, honey?" she repeats.

"Here." I push the pencil and the clipboard into her outstretched hand and watch her take it away.

XxX

A nurse leads me through the hall and into an office. She now has the clipboard with my forms. She looks at it. "Uh…Pony…boy?" When I nod she continues. "You can take a seat and the hospital administrator will be in to see you shortly."

I sit in a squeaky chair and stick my hands between my knees. She leaves and I wait.

XxX

"So, why are you doing this?"

"Excuse me?" I start chewing on a nail.

Doctor Carson glances at my papers. "Why have you taken the initiative to check yourself in to this clinic?"

"I—uh, I uh, take pills."

"Yes. I see here…" His finger traces the edge of one of the forms I've filled out. "You're taking…an over the counter stimulant..." Carson scribbles something in the margin. "Now tell me again, Ponyboy. Other than the pills, why are you voluntarily committing yourself?"

Isn't that enough, I think? Instead I say, "I can't stop. With the pills. I don't know how. I feel crazy sometimes." I pause, flush. "Can I say that? Crazy?" Carson smiles and nods. I continue. "Like I can't deal with anything."

"What makes you feel 'crazy'?"

"Life I guess. School. My family."

"Your family."

Fingers tense around the arms of the chair. "What about them?"

"Do they know you're here?"

"No,"I laugh to myself. "Darry'd kill me." This time I go red; my phrasing is wrong.

Carson is looking at me over his glasses. "And Darry is…"

"My oldest brother. Listen, I shouldn't have said tha—"

"I see you just recently turned 18. Why did you wait to come here when you've been taking the pills for more than 7 months?"

I wince. My mouth moves but nothing comes out.

"You feel this would help you?"

"I hope so." I bite my lip, wondering if he's buying anything I'm saying.

"Do you feel anxious, Ponyboy?"

"Sure. Doesn't everyone?"

An eyebrow is raised. "Depressed?"

"Um, yeah. Maybe."

"Have you ever entertained thoughts of self-harm? Suicide perhaps?"

"What?"I ask, caught off guard.

"Have you ever thought about killing yourself?"

I swallow, knowing what I have to say but not liking it anyway. Max had warned that Cherry Hills would be a tough sell. They're experts; they don't want bullshit, easy fixes.

Carson has his hands folded across his desk, waiting. He nods encouragingly. My palms start sweating, the urge for a cigarette hitting me hard. "I, uh," I begin. "I uh, have thought about it. A few times in the past, more recently because of all the stress with school. I just don't want to do it anymore. I just can't. Sometimes I see the pills and think what an easy way to go."

There. Done. Exhaling, I sit back in my chair and watch my hands shake.

"When did these feelings start?"

"After Johnny and Dal," I murmur quietly.

"What did you say, Ponyboy?"

"A few friends died," I say, my eyes moving to the green shag carpeting. "After—after that happened."

"I see." Another scribble. "Well, Ponyboy, I think Cherry Hills can help you." I look up, pokerfaced when all I want to do is grin. I can't wait to tell Nick.

Doctor Carson begins shuffling some papers around on his desk, paperclipping them together. "I have to let you know that despite you entering voluntarily, you'll be unable to exit this facility until the maximum two week stay has been completed. While you're at Cherry Hills you're required to complete therapy and follow the orders of your doctors and nurses. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Some new forms are slid across the desk. "Then I'll just need a signature here stating you understand the rules and policies of Cherry Hills and we'll get you admitted and assigned to your ward."

I scribble a signature so hard the tip of the pencil breaks.

XxX

Ward B, Floor 13 is the mental health facility. That's where I get assigned. The rest of Cherry Hills is comprised of Wards that are more specific to an ailment. Ward A is mainly for drug and alcohol abuse and addiction. Ward C is for self-injury.

I'm led down another hall with more white walls. At the opposite end of the hall is a payphone with an orange chair next to it, making it the only spec of color in the sea of whitewash, a table and a box of tissue. We pass a room and I stop, turn around and go back. Despite large windows, the room's dark and dingy. Small card tables are spread evenly throughout the space. A man in sweatpants and a dirty t-shirt is playing chess with himself. There's a bookshelf in the corner, a small TV and an L-shaped couch in the center.

My stomach twists.

"Ponyboy," the nurse calls out. My head swivels her way, she's a good 20 feet away from me. She gives me a smile, placing a palm around a doorknob. "Your room."

Slowly, I begin to walk.

XxX

"This one's yours." The nurse pats the bed by the window.

I sling my bag on the twin bed and sit down. I watch the nurse bustle around the room, opening window shades and twisting the dial on the radiator. There's a small side table by my bed, one of the knobs broken off the drawer. The other twin bed closest to the door is made and empty.

"All comfy?" the nurse asks. She's young and tall with a round apple face and thick glasses.

"Where's uh…" I nod at the empty bed.

"He checked out last week. You're lucky, no roommate. Now," she says, propping hands on her hips. "Let's open that bag and see what you have in there."

Instinctively, I draw it closer. "Why?"

She smiles. "Policy. You can't have anything sharp."

Frowning, I dump out the contents, letting her rifle through. That's when I notice the absence of mirrors. The trash can is odd too. That's when I realize it's lined with a paper bag. Not plastic. "This your family?" she asks, holding the picture frame out to me. My mind returns to the present. I take it back from her.

"Yeah, my brothers."

"Sweet." She smiles. "Well we didn't do too badly here," apple face says, laying a few items out. A pencil and a pen, the spiral notebook I've brought, a belt.

"Hey, wait," I say, alarmed. "I need those." The belt I can understand, the rest…well, that's what I'm here for.

"We're only taking these temporarily. If the doctor you're assigned to decides they're fine, you can have them back." She smiles again. It's fake.

"I need to write."

"I can get you a notepad. Crayons."

"Crayons?"

Gathering the items in her hands, she straightens up. "The doctor will be with you shortly. Try and get some rest."

XxX

Another meeting. This time I'm in another office and I'm pacing. Like Darry usually does anytime he's in an unfamiliar setting. The clock on the wall reads twelve o'clock; I've been here for nearly four hours. Realizations are catching up with me. I don't know how I'm going to do this. Cut the pills, snoop around, while staying sane and hoping I don't end up nuts.

I put fingers to my temples and rub. The door opens. A man in a white jacket with a shock of jet black hair breezes in, followed by a different nurse. He has a dark goatee, calm face. "Hello," he says. "I'm Dr. William Please."

"Ponyboy Curtis," I say, shaking his hand, admiring his last name.

"Please, have a seat," Doctor Please says, gesturing to a chair. "This is Nurse Wilkes."

The nurse, handing the doctor a file folder, labeled _Curtis, P.M_., glances my way. "Hello, son." Her smile is sympathetic.

"Thank you, Beverly," Dr. Please says. "That will be all." The nurse disappears and the door shuts. Dr. Please moves around to sit down at his desk and I perch on the edge of a chair. He has a photo of a woman with two small girls flying kites in a field. A medical license hangs on the wall next to a shelf of textbooks.

"So, Ponyboy." I wait for him to say more and he doesn't. I wipe palms on my jeans. Lick my lips. Cough into my fist. Finally, Please continues, "This first session is to get a general feel of what you need and how I can help."

"Okay."

"You seem nervous," Please says. "Your hands."

"Yeah," I say with a laugh, un-balling my fists. "I guess I am. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," he says. "It's natural to be nervous." Please picks up a pen. "Do you do that a lot? Apologize? Especially to your brother, Darry?"

"What?"

"In your earlier assessment with Dr. Carson, you mentioned your brother Darry. He noted you seemed…distressed. Would he not approve of you being here?"

"No. He just—he's just…Darry's just Darry," I finish, trying to get a grasp on what I want to say and knowing I sound like a complete loony at the moment.

Carson makes another note and I lean forward, envisioning the horrible notations going into my chart. "What's that? What are you writing about?"

"I'm just making a reminder to revisit this topic in the future."

"What? Darry?"

"He seems to be a topic of contention." Before I can argue, Carson asks, "Now what about your parents?"

"My parents are dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Please makes another note. I roll my eyes to the ceiling. "Ponyboy, I'm going to start you on a small dose of amitriptyline. It's an anti-depressant. It will also help with anxiety." He sets his pen down. I'm frowning. "Ponyboy?"

"Well…if I'm trying to get off pills, how is taking more going to help?"

"Excellent question. I'm hoping the medication will help with some of the negative feelings you're experiencing. Of course, they aren't the only answer. We'll have this therapy and in time you won't feel the need to act out destructively with drugs."

I shift awkwardly in my seat. "Yeah, but…"

"Nurse Wilkes also tells me you're taking amoxicllin for your illness. Not to worry, the amitriptyline will not counteract that medicine's needed affects on the pneumonia."

"Swell."

Please shuts my file. "I think we're going to have quite a bit to talk about, don't you?"

XxX

When I get back to my room, there's a pack of crayons and a stack of loose-leaf paper on my bed. Angrily, I shove them off. They hit the wall and I plop on the stiff bed. Breathing hard, I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, at the cracks running across it. I try hard not to cry.

XxX

I wake from sleep. The room is dark, window blinds still pulled up. I crawl off the bed, moving to the window to draw the blinds. I notice the window is bolted shut. No way for exit or entry of any kind.

_A 22 year-old student committed suicide by jumping from the 20th floor of Cherry Hills hospital…_

I close the curtains and flip on a light switch. I glance at the bedside table for a clock. My eyes narrow. There's not one. Probably because of the cord needed to plug it in. For all the safety precautions Cherry Hills takes I wonder how the hell six people have died since December and why I can't get a goddamn pencil in this place.

XxX

Faint strands of Bobby Darin's "Beyond the Sea" waft into my room.

_Somewhere beyond the sea  
somewhere waiting for me  
my lover stands on golden sands  
and watches the ships that go sailin'… _

Curious, I crack my door and step out. There's a few people milling in the hall, lining up at a counter. A flurry of white passes me by, "Pill check," the voice says. I follow the floating figure, getting in line behind it.

It turns and it's a disheveled man. Long brown hair, bushy beard, he's wearing white pants and a white long sleeved shirt. He looks like a transient hobo, one of the hippies they always show on the TV, flashing peace signs.

"What're we doing?" I whisper.

"New. I knew it." He cracks a grin. "We get our meds. We take them. Like that." He points at the first person in line. The apple-faced nurse from earlier hands the patient a small cup, he swallows quickly, reaches for another cup filled with water and swallows that too. He opens his mouth wide and apple-face inspects. She nods. He moves off. The next person steps up.

"What if I don't want to take them?"

His face shows amused surprise. "Just take 'em."

The line moves efficiently, the hobo in front of me swallowing his and then disappearing. When I get to the counter, the nurse looks at her clipboard. "Uh huh," she nods, reading off the chart. "Amoxicllin and amitriptyline." With a jutting hand, she holds the paper cup out to me. I take a step backward. Her smile is a grimace. "Ponyboy."

Gingerly, I take the small cup and shoot the pills into the back of my throat. I swallow them down with a swig of water and say _aaaahhh_. "You can go," apple-face says.

XxX

I drop some coins into the payphone and punch his number. I let the phone ring and I'm about to hang up when there's a gruff, "Yeah?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Curtis!" Max exclaims. "I've been wondering about you. Thought you'd call sooner. How you doing, kid? Hanging in?"

"Well for starters, I just swallowed about a fistful of pills," I hiss into the receiver.

"They're dopin you, huh?"

I rub the back of my head, turning my shoulder into the phone as someone passes me by, staring. "I have no idea what the hell I took. Amit—amit-something. Anyway…" I bite my lip, the pills heavy in my stomach. "Have you heard from Nick?"

"Saw him at the office earlier," Max grunts. "Didn't say much 'cept he's coming to see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Visiting hours start at ten," I say dryly.

"I'll come see you soon too," Max says. "Need anything from me?"

"Not yet."

"Okay, look Curtis, keep your head up."

"Sure." I press down on the hookswitch, cutting him off. I hold the phone a bit longer and then pass it off to the person behind me.

XxX

"Good book?" It's the hobo.

"It's mine," I say. "I brought it from home."

He sits next to me on the L-shaped couch. "It's bloody?"

I look at the cover of _Gone with the Wind_. I think of Johnny. "Yeah, kinda." I shift on the couch, drawing my legs up and under me. "Is it always this dead in here?" The rec room is quiet; the same man from earlier is still playing chess.

"Slow night at the hills." He whistles and then holds out a surprisingly clean hand. "Chris Stubmann. Stubs."

"Ponyboy Curtis."

He squints at me through his mess of beard and hair. "I saw you on the phone earlier. You call your family?"

I raise an eyebrow. "What're you night patrol?"

"Something like that." He cracks a haggard grin. Reaching into the pockets of his baggy pants he pulls out a pack of cigarettes. "Smoke?" he offers, pulling a stick out.

I reach for one as I say, "I'm trying to quit."

He laughs. "You ain't quitting here. Trust me." Stubs leaves and I smoke the cigarette down to a nub, breathing easy through the smoke.

XxX

_Pardon typos. SE Hinton owns The Outsiders._

_I did do as much research on all this medical stuff, mental health institutions, etc, that I could but pardon any incorrectness. I tried to make all as decently accurate as possible. _

_I thank thee for all the kind reads and reviews. Please keep it up. More to come soon._

_XO,_

_Feisty_


	10. Three Little Things

Three Little Things

XxX

I forget where I am.

I wake, thinking I'm still at home, hearing Darry's coffee brew, Soda clambering through the front door. A warm glow is cast through my room. Instead, I open my eyes and apple-face is there, opening windows and carrying a tray. "Pills," she says. I scowl and swallow them down.

XxX

On my way to breakfast, I pass the receptionist from yesterday. She chuckles heartily, "My, my, I was just speaking about you." I stop dead in my tracks, turn around and walk back to the desk.

"To who?"

"Oh honey," she booms, "you've been getting phone calls since two o'clock yesterday. Of course, I told dem boys when visitin' hours was but they sure cared none. They just keep calling. All day and all night."

XxX

I claim a table in a far corner, picking at my toast. I have no appetite. I take a drink of orange juice and twirl the plastic fork between my fingers like it's a pencil. I think of the crayons on my nightstand.

There's the squeak of a chair as the one opposite me is pulled out and a woman sits. She sets her tray down. I lean back.

"Hello." Her voice is deep and raspy. She's maybe in her 30's, with curly red hair and a thin scar trailing from the end of her left eyebrow to the edge of her chin. "I've seen you reading." She starts clucking her tongue.

I take a bite of toast and chew, unsure of what to say or do.

"I'm Marie," she says. "I like your name better though."

"Thanks," I say, smiling.

Marie clucks her tongue again and then says, "There're not many kids your age in here. There was one boy but not anymore."

I almost choke on my toast. I swallow fast. "What do you mean?"

"We have the same eyes," she says, cocking her head this way and that; evaluating me. She's right. In this light, I see they're a bright green. She stands.

"Wait," I say. "Who were you talking about?"

"Have a good breakfast," Marie says, leaving her tray and walking off.

I chew my lip. She was talking about Jamie Coleman. I go back to my room and smoke a cigarette.

XxX

10 o'clock hits and Nick's already waiting in the common area. He's in a baseball cap, sitting at one of the card tables, drumming his fingers against the top. He nods as I walk in, his face brightening.

"Hey," I say, sliding into the chair across from him.

"Well, you got in."

"I got in." I raise a brow, amused. "What's the matter, Nick? Had some doubts?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I expected to happen." His voice gets low. "So, what'd ya say?"

"Just told them I wanted to swallow a bunch of pills is all."

"That's quite a whopper. Although," Nick says, giving me an angry look, "according to your big brother, it ain't too far from the truth."

I bite my lip. "You heard."

"Yeah. What the _fuck_, Curtis?"

"You didn't tell Max did you?"

"No I didn't tell Max. But hell, telling Max is the least of our problems," Nick hisses. "Curtis, you're in here to bust a story. How're you gonna do that if _you_ can't get straight?"

"I'm straight. Well," I amend, getting another glare, "straight-ish." I teeter-totter my hand. "I couldn't tell you Nick. It ain't something I wanted to broadcast. It's…it's embarrassing."

Nick sighs. "Ponyboy…"

"Okay, look, I wouldn't have done this if I didn't think I could handle it. I can. Besides, you think this is easy for me? I have to write with crayons, Nick. Crayons."

"Really? Shit that almost makes this worth it." He laughs and then asks, "Are you doin' okay at least, man?"

"Yeah, don't sweat it." I rest an elbow on the table, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You tell my brothers?"

"Yeah. It wasn't pretty. Darry went nuts," Nick says. "I went over there after work and he's on the phone yelling at someone and as soon as I walk in he starts yelling at me, something about how you shouldn't be on your own because of the pills. And then he gets this kind of panicked look on his face when I ask, 'what pills?' and I'm standing there like an idiot while he starts roaring about that."

Nick takes his baseball cap off, threading his fingers through his hair. He puts his cap back on, getting a breath and I remember why Nick's a journalist. "_Then_ when I tell him what's going on, where you are—some sort of undercover work assignment, yada, yada—I swear Curtis, he wanted to take a swing at me."

"Shit. He didn't, did he?"

"No. He wanted more details but I wouldn't give him any." Nick smirks. "Leaving that to you."

"Hey, you did your part." I rub a hand across my forehead. "Thanks, man."

"Nothing to it. So," Nick says, giving me a forgiving grin. "Tell me what's goin on."

I launch into what all's happened in the last 24 hours, talking to the therapists, safety precautions that aren't lax, the taking away of my pens and pencils, and finally finishing up with meeting Marie this morning.

"I'm damn sure she was talking about Jamie Coleman. I'm going to try and talk to her later today," I say. "If she'll talk."

Nick's nodding. "That's good. Real good. Hey, I'm going to try and talk to Jamie's parents. Just ask them a few ques—Curtis, who's the lady eyeballing you?"

I follow Nick's gaze. It's Apple Face. "I don't know. She's some nurse, gives us our pills and—"

"Wait, what? You're taking meds?"

"Yeah, they put me on some anti-depressants."

Nick goes white. "Jesus Christ. You ain't taking them are you?"

"They watch you swallow. I can't get out of it." Nick groans and I say, "Glory, I don't want to take them either but I ain't got a choice."

"Okay, okay. Just…just be careful, Ponyboy." Nick glances at his watch. "You can call out here right? I can call in?"

"Yeah." I give him the phone number for the payphone in the hall. We talk for a few more minutes until Apple Face comes over and tells us morning visiting hours are over.

XxX

Marie was right. So far, I'm the youngest one I've seen in Ward B.

I survey the patients in my group therapy class.

After Nick's visit I had gone back to my room, only to be pulled out by Stubs. "We got class," he had said. I followed and ended up in a circle of chairs, led by Dr. Please.

I don't know how the class is divided up, but join the group of five. Marie and Stubs sit on each side of me. Across is the chess man, Clarence, who keeps staring off into space. He hums some garbled tune and doesn't answer any of Please's questions.

There's a blonde girl named Flora who keeps tugging at her hair. She pulls out long wispy strands and puts them in between her teeth like she's flossing. When she's done she wads the hair into a ball and sticks it in her pockets.

I stare at the tiled linoleum, wishing I were somewhere else.

The last patient is named Lester. He's big, Jerry Woods big, and has thick glasses and a lisp. He breathes heavily and has a laugh that cuts. "New," he keeps saying, staring at me through thick coke bottle lenses. "You're new. New and nice."

An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. "Leave the kid alone," Marie snaps. She pats the top of my fluffy, non-greased hair. "Leave him be."

Dr. Please begins the session asking questions, following up on topics from last week. I keep quiet and listen.

XxX

I wander into the rec room. Group therapy is over and I try to kill some time by asking some questions about Cherry Hills. I spread them out among the lingering patients, hoping they're not too obvious.

I find out that three things are required at the hospital to get by. Individual Therapy on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, Group Therapy on Mondays and Fridays, and Pill Line-Up in the evenings at 8pm sharp.

There are 30 of us on Ward B, clusters of patients assigned to specific doctors and nurses.

The rest of the time it's about calm. About peace. You can interact if you want. Or you can hole yourself up in your room. Someone tells me to avoid The Box. I don't ask what that is.

XxX

Around two in the afternoon my hands start trembling. I stare at them like I've never seen them before.

XxX

I call my house. There's no answer.

I call Max. He's out.

I go back to my room.

XxX

I'm pacing. I need a pill. Need something. My chest is going to explode. The aching for a buzz returns. My hands ball into fists. You're sick, I tell myself. You're sick you have to resort to this. Everyone knows you're a mess. Everyone but you.

Thoughts reel in my mind. What would your parents say? What would Johnny say? Stay gold? Not anymore. Dallas would slap the shit out of you. You're lucky Darry hasn't already. Soda should've disowned you by now. No wonder they haven't come…

It's worse than I thought it would be. Here, I can't get anything. it's not like at home where I'd swear off the pills, do fine for two days and then cave and go buy some more. I'm literally on an island with no way off.

And it's only been a day.

My vision blurs and before I know it I'm running into the bathroom to retch.

XxX

"Ponyboy?" my door opens and I sit up, expecting Apple Face. Instead, it's Nurse Wilkes. She smiles gently. "Were you planning to come to dinner tonight?"

I sit up on my bed. "No ma'am. But thank you."

"Well, if you'd like I can send up some dinner?"

"Dinner's early here, ain't it?" It's only 4:30.

"We like to let the patients eat before evening visiting hours at 6," Wilkes says. "Settle your stomach some. Are you sure I can't get you anything?"

"Maybe just some water."

Nurse Wilkes gives me a knowing look. "You're doing fine, Ponyboy. I'll be back with that water."

XxX

The crayon snaps in my hand.

I swear, making a note to tell Dr. Please that I need a pencil. I pick up another crayon, a blue one this time, and scribble down my thoughts from the last two days. What people have said; opinions and facts.

Pausing, I lean back, against the headboard of my bed. I take a sip of water from the plastic cup. "Shit."

I set the cup back down on the nightstand. Specs of red float in the water. I touch a hand to my mouth. It comes away red.

I grab a tissue and cough.

Red.

XxX

There's a tap at my door. Quickly, I stick the papers into my pillowcase, along with the crayons. "Yeah?"

Stubs stands in the doorway. Today, he's all in black, reminding me of Johnny Cash. "You got some visitors. Two fellas look a lot like you."

I slide off my bed. Slowly. Shaken. "Where are they?"

"Common area." He catches my arm before I can bolt out of the room. "Walk it, kid. Don't run."

XxX

I get to the edge of the room. They're sitting on a couch, backs to me. I recognize the hunch of Darry's shoulders and hear Soda's low voice murmuring. Then Soda's back stiffens. He turns. And he's the one running.

XxX

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Ponyboy," Soda keeps saying. "What're you doing here?" Soda has his hand glued to mine. He glances around, checking out the other patients and their visitors. He grips my hand tighter. Only a few people are in the common room; no one that I know.

"Ponyboy, you got a lot of explaining to do." I glance at Darry. He's across from me sitting on another couch, his shoulders big and broad, arms crossed, face exhausted.

"Nick told you," I say. "It's for a story. And I—I thought this place could…"

"Fix you?" I stay silent and Darry sighs. "Pony, you know what I thought when I saw that letter?"

"Yeah, I do."

His glance is sharp. "Do you?"

"I saw the books, Dar." Darry pales. Soda seems confused so I keep talking. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I say. "I couldn't do it by myself."

"You weren't by yourself," Darry says. "Pony, I would have done anything. _Anything_, kiddo."

"I—I didn't mean it like that. I just—I don't have self-control," I say. "I can't go cold turkey. I thought I could but I can't. And since we were doing a story for work I thought I might as well—"

"What? Volunteer yourself?" Soda finishes, and his jaw is tighter than I've ever seen. "Check yourself into _this place_? This shit show?"

"It's okay, Sodapop."

"Nothing about this is okay!" Soda yells. Heads turn to gawk, an orderly steps around the corner to watch us. "Nothing." Soda drops my hand. "Why didn't you just tell us instead of sneakin' off like you did?"

"I knew you wouldn't let me go."

Soda looks away.

"What's the story about, Pony?" Darry says.

"What?"

"The story. What is. It about?" His words are spaced far apart, like I'm slow and need time to think. Which in fact, I do.

"It's uh, about the day-to-day routine of a patient in Cherry Hills."

"And you couldn't research that at home?"

"No. It's investigative journalism." I eye Darry suspiciously. "And don't go calling my boss. He knows I'm here. He's the one who got me in."

Darry shakes his head. "Check yourself out, Ponyboy. Come home. You can do the report there. You can get help there. From someone we know."

"_Please_." Soda's staring at me.

My leg's jumping, mouth dry. The talk with my brothers makes me want to let them take me home. But I'm here for a reason. Two actually. "I can't." I shut my eyes and then open them. "There's a two week mandatory period. I already signed something."

"No," Soda says. "No. There has to be some way…Darry, can't we do anything?" Darry sits still, watching me.

"I'm stayin', Soda." I tug on my brother's plaid shirt, smelling gasoline fumes and his musky aftershave. "It'll work out. I hated lying to you guys; I can't do it anymore. I'll be okay. I'll do the story and come ho—"

A buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the visiting hour. I jump at the noise. Soda stiffens, watching another orderly walk across the room. Darry moves from his seat to sit next to me. He reaches out, wrapping a large hand around my neck, and draws my face close to his. "Kiddo, I don't like it here. I don't like leaving you. You call us or the boys every day, got that?"

"Glory, it's just two weeks, Dar."

"I don't care. If we don't hear from you, we're driving up, visiting hours or not." I nod. Bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.

We say goodbye, Darry grabbing me and Soda both up in his arms. And when they leave, walking out, down the long white corridor, Soda is the one holding Darry up.

XxX

"Tuckered out, kid?" Stubs asks as I slink into line. I'm wiped out from the visit. I was on my way back to my room when the music had sounded, reminding me about Pill Line-Up. The song tonight is Glen Campbell's _By the Time I Get to Phoenix_. I wince at the country twang…

_By the time I get to Phoenix she'll be rising  
She'll find the note I left hangin' on her door  
She'll laugh when she reads the part that says I'm leavin'  
'Cause I've left that girl so many times before_

"Butt out," I tell Stubs. He chuckles in surprise. I wince, saying, "I'm sorry, man."

Stubs holds a hand out. "No worries. You're withdrawin'. I can dig that."

I scratch my shoulder, twitchy. "How'd you know?"

"Most everyone here's on or off something."

"And you? What're you on?"

"Off…" Stubs murmurs, eyes distracted, watching something over my shoulder. I turn and see a young girl bickering with Apple Face. She throws her cup of pills. They go flying, blue and red capsules dancing on the floor.

"Oh, oh," Stubs says.

I watch in awe as two orderlies approach, question her calmly and then when the girl slams her hands on the counter, they each loop an arm through hers. She starts screaming, bucking her body as they drag her away; her wails echoing in the hall.

"The Box," someone up ahead of me says. Murmurs of worry float among us.

Stubs dips his mouth close to my ear. "It's just the seclusion room. I've been there. It ain't all it's cracked up to be."

My brain pulls up an article: _Doug St. John, 38, …__the patient, was found hanging in his seclusion room…_

I smile as I approach Apple Face. I hold a hand out and take my meds. I gotta get in there.

XxX

_SE Hinton owns the Outsiders._

_Pardon typos._

_Many thanks for the read and reviews. You guys rock and make me thankful I have such great readers. Hope you're enjoying the story so far. Lord knows there's enough left. Ha. But seriously…I still got a lot more to tell. Hope you're along for the ride._

_XO,_

_Feisty_


	11. Pretend Carefully

Pretend Carefully

XxX

"Hello, Ponyboy."

"Uh, hello." I settle into a chair. Fold my hands together and wait for my first therapy session to begin.

"Nurse Wilkes said you were in withdrawal last evening. That you skipped dinner."

"Yes, sir."

"And how did you feel about that?" At my blank stare, Please continues. "Confused? Relieved?"

"I guess…relieved."

Please murmurs something and makes a note on a yellow pad of paper. He looks up. "Any other symptoms?"

I think of the red. "Um, dizziness. That's about it."

"I see. Well, that's a start." Smiling, Dr. Please opens my folder. "I couldn't place it when we first met, Ponyboy, but I knew I remembered you from somewhere." My stomach sinks as he unveils the clippings of me, Johnny and Dallas. Then he shows me some more, earlier clippings. My mom and dad on the front page, the word ACCIDENT in black, bold letters. I slump lower in my chair.

Doctor Please says, "First your parents, then your best friends. Son, it's no surprise you've been feeling the feelings you have for some time now."

I exhale, not meeting his eyes, looking toward the window. The morning sun is brimming on the horizon, yellow and golden. It moves through the dim office, casting a yellow hue on the gray. "What do you want me to say?"

"Exactly that. I want to talk."

"About what? Feelings?"

"If you'd like to."

"What if I don't?"

"Then we'll sit here. Waste the hour." Please cocks a brow. "Unless you have something to say that is."

I draw myself up, finally giving him a glance. "Yeah, I have something to say. I don't want crayons anymore."

"Excuse me?"

"I want a real pencil or a pen. To write."

The doctor chuckles. "Oh yes, Nurse Jeffries told me about that."

"Who?"

"Nurse Jeffries…?"

"Oh, yeah, right." Apple Face.

"You do understand why we take precautions, Ponyboy? So that no harm comes to you or another."

"But I just want to write. I'm not going to do anything." I run a hand through my hair, deciding to test the waters. "'Sides, how can I in here? It's like Alcatraz." I watch his face for a flicker, for anything but there's nothing. Instead, Dr. Please glances at my chart.

"You've said so yourself you've entertained suicidal thoughts. Want to tell me about those?"

My eyes have gone wide; I can feel them, letting in the sunlight from the window, dilating my pupils. When I'm silent he says, "Ponyboy, I'll make you a deal. If you talk to me about this, I'll let you have a pencil for an hour a day in the rec room."

I think fast. My brain flashes back two, three, four years, chasing my memories like snapshots. I dig down deep for some semblance of truth. What I find stings.

"After…after Johnny and Dal died, I, uh, I used to go out to the lake by our house...Lake Elmo. We used to fish there when we were little…" My voice sounds weird; hesitant and far-away. It also sounds flat like Darry's does when he's worried or afraid. I continue.

"My brothers didn't know I went there. Sometimes I'd go after school. Sometimes on the weekends when Darry or Soda were pulling a double. I'd go down to that lake and I'd just stare at the water, how calm it was, how still. It was so blue but murky. Like on the surface it was perfect but deep down it was dark and rough. You could just get lost in it. And all I wanted to do was just climb inside and go deep. Just swim out to the middle and sink. I never wanted to come back up."

There's a long silence. In a voice I barely hear, Please says, "Ponyboy, what stopped you?"

I cover my eyes. "My brothers. They always stop me."

XxX

20 minutes later I nearly bolt from Dr. Please's office. I slam the door shut, doing all I can not to break into a sprint on the way back to my room. Where the hell did that come from? It was too much. I didn't want to dig. I didn't know. I think of those trips down to the lake I used to take after school. I remembered the lake – but not that. Not _that_.

I wipe my eyes and move fast. I round the corner, room in sight when there's a tug on my elbow. "Easy, honey," Nurse Wilkes says as I jump and back away. "You have morning visitors."

I blink.

XxX

After the initial hug, I take a seat next to Two-Bit on the couch. He peers at me closely. "What happened? You look weird."

I look away. "Thanks a lot."

He squeezes my arm. "No, really, what happened?"

"Nothing." I glance over at Steve. "What're you doing here?"

"We should be asking you that, kid. What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

"Soda knows. Ask him."

"I did." Steve leans forward, chest nearly touching his knees. "And what I wanna know is if that story is really worth this?" Steve swirls around his index finger next to his temple. "There was a woman down the hall wearing nothing but a bathrobe and screaming about voices." Steve's mouth turns up. "I mean I always knew you were destined for a place like this but never thought I'd actually see it…"

I hold up my middle finger. "Hey!" an orderly shouts. "None of that."

Two-Bit's face is dark as he stares at Steve. "Don't. It ain't funny."

"Well, hell, if golden boy here knows what he's doing, we might as well turn 'im loose. He's 18 now or didn't you hear?"

"Leave it alone, man." Sighing, I pull out a pack of cigarettes, going through the unconscious motion. "I'm trying to get off these pills, Steve. Jesus, sue me." I pull a stick out, pop it in my mouth, light it and—

Steve snatches it away, crumpling the stick in his palm. He dumps it on the dirty blue tile. Glaring at him, I tug out another stick. This time, Two-Bit grabs the entire pack and the stick, crushing both like garbage.

Frustrated, I sink back against the couch, pulling my feet up, to rest my heels on the couch cushion. I wrap my arms around my knees, bow my head. "Sorry. This is just really hard."

There's a cool hand on the back of my neck. I raise my head, looking right. Two-Bit says, "You'll be okay, kid."

I look left. Steve's hands are balled into fists. But he just nods anyway.

XxX

The common room clears out. I stay seated on the couch, running things over in my mind. The therapy, Steve's and Two-Bit's visit. I'm tired, slightly queasy and I wonder if it's the meds. I toe the crumpled and broken smokes on the ground with nostalgia. The orderly, hovering in the corner, chatting with a nurse, catches my attention. Reminds me of other things.

XxX

I go wait for a phone. While I'm in line, Marie drops by. "Who you callin', child?" Her red hair bounces.

"A friend."

"Sure have a lot of friends. Visitors, yesterday, today. Popular boy." She flashes a smile and rambles down the hall. My turn comes and I drop in coins and punch in numbers.

"Max here."

"It's Pony."

"Kid," Max says. "Nick says you're doing swell. You better be, considering what I'm paying."

"No shit," Cherry Hills is not exactly cheap. It's like a nice vacation only with mental issues tossed on top of it. I run my plan by Max and he tells me to go for it.

XxX

I call Nick next. He whispers the details of the meeting with Jamie Coleman's parents. "They'd swear on his grave he wasn't suicidal."

"They said that?" I'm gripping the phone tight.

XxX

When the music plays, at 8pm sharp, I stay in my room. I don't go out for Pill Line-Up. I take shallow breaths. I'm nervous. I wipe sweaty palms on the bedspread and hang tight. At about a quarter past eight the door opens. Apple Face stands there. "You're late," she says. "You know you can't be late." She beckons with a palm. "Come now, Ponyboy. Let's go."

She takes a step and I don't follow. "Ponyboy."

"I don't want to take any more pills," I say. "I won't."

"Young man—"

"No!" I yell and my voice is loud even for me. It reminds me of hollering at Darry when he hollered at Sodapop for sticking up for me that one night long ago. Raising my voice, trying to make it steady. "This place is bullshit."

Her eyes widen as I slam an arm into the plastic water pitcher on my nightstand. Water and the cups go flying, rattling empty on the floor. I stare at them; accomplished, hoping that did it.

Apple Face's mouth moves into a straight line. She presses a button on the wall and then crosses her arms. Two orderlies appear in my doorway.

XxX

The Box is, well, a box. A tiny square full of padding. Padding on the walls, the floor, the ceiling. No windows. It's so white my eyes hurt. I walk the small space, running my hands up and down the wall, searching for a door or a hook or something.

Something.

I try to pull at the locked door. As expected, it doesn't budge. There're no bars on it, no room for anything to be slipped in.

_Doug St. John, 38, …__the patient, was found hanging in the seclusion room…_

I glance up. There's a ceiling grate, maybe three feet above me. But other than that there's no way a man locked in the Box would be able to bring a piece of rope inside with him.

Unless someone gave it to him. Physically opened the door and put it into his hands.

XxX

It's dark and eerily quiet. I sit in the corner of the room, trying to see my hand in front of my face. My mouth is dry. I need a drink of water. I'm sweating something fierce and I know I'm fighting the urge. That dark something I've been keeping under the lake of water.

Confused, I bury my head in my hands and yawn. I think of Darry and Soda. I think of Jamie Coleman, of Doug St. John. My brain formulates ideas.

I yawn again. I really wish I had a pencil.

XxX

The door swings open. It must be sometime later. I wake from sleep, wiping at my eyes. Dr. Please steps into view. Nurse Wilkes is behind him with a tray. I stay seated on the floor.

"Ponyboy, I heard about the situation earlier." I roll my eyes in the dark. Boy howdy; _situation_. "We're going to give you a few extra pills to go along with the pills you refused to take earlier. Help you calm down."

"But I don't want to calm down," I say, crossing my arms. "I don't want anything else."

"We don't want you to stay in here any longer than you have been," Nurse Wilkes says. "Now be a good boy and take your medicine."

I swallow them down, chase them with water and then go back to my room, led by Nurse Wilkes. I hit the bed hard.

XxX

It feels like I've been sleeping 40 years. When I wake this time, I'm in my room, bringing back flashes of last night. And I want to rush, grab some paper and a crayon and write what I saw but that takes a concentrated effort. My legs are spaghetti, my body a numb center.

"What time is it?" I ask Apple Face as she breezes through the door.

"Nine. You slept in." Miffed, she goes to do her usual routine; open the drapes, check the room. She sets another water pitcher and glass on my nightstand along with a small cup of pills.

"It feels like I just took those," I say, giving them a dirty look.

"That's why we have a schedule, Ponyboy," Apple Face says. "That why you need to take them or you'll fall behind." She crosses her arms, standing over me. "So go ahead. Take them."

XxX

I stay in my room after Apple Face leaves, finally mustering up the energy to write my notes. I change into a pair of jeans and one of Soda's old DX t-shirts that I've brought, noting happily that it still smells like diesel. Crawling back onto the bed, the springs creak.

There's a tap on the door. Stubs swings it open, waltzes in and sits in a chair that's nestled in the corner. I turn my pieces of paper over.

"Heard you caused some commotion last night."

"Nothing too bad."

"How was the Box?"

"Like you said, nothing it was cracked up to be."

Stubs laughs and it's a good sound. A deep chuckle, kind of coarse and raspy. He slaps his hands on his knees and then lights a smoke. "Good to hear, kid. One day in the box is fine but don't go making it a habit. People who do, well, they don't always get right."

"Which reminds me," he continues. "The reason I'm here – there's a phone call for you. I left it danglin'."

XxX

Stubs was right. The phone is hanging from the payphone by its long silver cord, near touching the floor. I pick it up. "Hello?"

"Ponyboy…"

"Sodapop?" I can hear the background noise of the DX, engines revving, Steve hollering at someone, car parts clanging around.

"Ponyboy, are you okay?"

I frown. Soda sounds frantic. "Yeah, Soda I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"I just—" He laughs. "I just had the strangest dream last night."

"_You_ were dreaming?"

"I know, I couldn't believe it myself," Soda says. "I just– all this morning – kept feeling something was wrong. You sure you're okay?"

"Don't worry, Soda. I'm okay."

"Nothing happened? You swear?"

"Sure, I swear. Everything's cool."

He lets out a long breath. "I don't know how you used to have those dreams."

"Practice," I say and Soda laughs.

"C'mon Pony!" Glancing over my shoulder, Marie is waving at me. "Group time." She points at the rec room where my group members are filing in.

"Shit." I turn back to the phone. "Soda, I gotta go."

XxX

Dr. Please, leading the discussion, glances my way. "Ponyboy, you've been quiet the last two sessions. Would you like to say anything?"

"Does anyone have a cigarette?"

Laughter floats from the group and everyone except Lester unveils a pack of cigarettes. I lean over to take one from Marie. "Uh, thanks."

Flora tosses me her lighter. While I'm lighting up she says, "I don't like this group anymore, Dr. Please."

"And why not Flora?"

"It keeps changing. It's not fair."

"What's not fair?"

"People keep leaving. Then new ones come." My ears perk up at this and I wish to hell I could take notes. Instead, I log them away for later. "I miss the Saint."

"I am sorry. But we have to accommodate everyone."

Flora, pouting, lets the lighter I toss back her way, smack the ground. She doesn't pick it up. I sink lower into the metal chair, the cigarette dangling from my lips. "Ponyboy," Dr. Please says. "Tell us about your choice to smoke."

I go hot all over. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Clearly you're making the decision to smoke despite having an illness."

"Aren't we all sick?" Stubs asks. "Everyone needs something."

Not in any mood for a defender, I cross my arms. "I figure I have to give everything else up, keeping one thing isn't gonna hurt."

"Sounds like you're trying to mask something for another," Please returns. "Why is this?"

"I don't know," I mutter and take a drag on my smoke, making it clear I'm done talking.

Please turns to the Chess Man. "Clarence why do you drink?"

"Because I'm alone."

The two of them get into it, and relieved, I slump down, finishing my cigarette. My eyes widen as Flora pulls out a strand of hair and starts chewing on it. Lester, the big fat man, begins rocking back and forth in his chair. Marie and Stubs just stare straight ahead, smoking.

I touch fingertips to my forehead. Glory, I don't know if I can do this.

XxX

After class, I corner Dr. Please before he can leave. "Any chance of getting that pencil?"

Please smiles, his plastic face looking odd in the movement. "Oh yes, Ponyboy. I'll have Nurse Wilkes bring you one after lunch today. Remember you'll have to be supervised." I nod. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

He walks off.

Annoyed, I spin around, dizzy from the smoke, the discussion. In my haste, I bump into Flora who must have been standing right behind me. "Sorry," I reach out, grabbing her shoulder to steady her. "I didn't mean to…"

Flora's eyes are deep brown. They widen slightly and then squint. She gives me a look. "You may be new but soon you'll be gone too. They all leave us."

I let go of her shoulder.

XxX

The water is cool. I splash another palmful on my face, trying to get rid of the heat coursing through me. My body is rebelling against giving up the pills. Now if only it would let me give up the smokes. I raise my face, a blank white wall staring back at me, and dry it with a few paper towels. It's odd not having a mirror to see myself in. I wonder what I look like.

As I exit the communal men's bathroom, situated in a little nook at the end of the hall, there's a snuffling noise coming from behind. I turn, cautiously, only to find Lester pacing back and forth between the water fountain and the men's room. I stick my hands in my pockets.

"Comin' to lunch, Lester?" He grunts, pushing his slipping glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. He keeps pacing and muttering. "Yeah," I say, giving a shrug. "I don't really want to go either."

I go to leave and then Lester's shoving me back against the wall. "Whoa," I say, caught off guard. Lester tugs at my shirt. I shove him away, off. "What the hell are you doing?" I yell. He stares at me blankly and then lopes off. I watch his fat backside round the corner and disappear.

I let out a breath I've been holding. I'm shaking. "Jesus Christ."

XxX

The pencil is smooth between my fingers. The orange-yellow color a pleasant sight, especially in the dreary rec room. It's two in the afternoon, lunch is over and I'm ready to write. Nurse Wilkes stands a respectful distance away. Every now and then she'll give me a smile and then turn back to chat with the big, burly orderly who dragged me off to the Box. He's making eye contact with me so I figure there's no hard feelings.

I start writing on the loose-leaf paper, trying to make connections out of thoughts.

_The Box, 10 x 10, padded. No windows. Ceiling grate. No way for entry or exit without keys. Who has keys? Doctors, nurses, orderlies…_

This has me convinced it's someone inside. But why? I duck my head and continue,

_Jamie Coleman. Marie knows. Losing members in group therapy. Who? Ask Flora._

I underline the _who _with thick strokes. That's when it hits me. Marie had mentioned Jamie Coleman. Flora had mentioned a saint, Doug St. James maybe...people coming and then leaving. New people.

I write Flora's words: _You may be new but soon you'll be gone too. They all leave us_.

My group members had known at least these two patients. Maybe they knew the rest. I'd have to ask. If they knew the rest…that meant…

Heart pounding, I scribble: _Dr. Please was their doctor. All of them._

I feel myself pale. I look up and cover my written words with my hands.

XxX

I weasel a piece of tape from the Nurse at the front desk. The one who checked me in. "Now what you want with this, honey?"

"Craft project."

Back in my room, I fold up my notes into a small square and tape them underneath the drawer of my nightstand.

XxX

_Oh, it's so hard to stop there. But I must. It's a long one. I hope I did it justice._

_SE Hinton owns the Outsiders._

_Pardon typos._

_Many thanks for the read and reviews on Chapter 10. _

_More to come…keep on reading, readers! Please review if you'd be so kind. _

_XO,_

_Feisty_


	12. A Pretty Nice Boy

A Pretty Nice Boy

XxX

After hiding my notes, I go back to the rec room, needing somewhere quiet to think.

I choose a book from the shoddy shelf in the corner of the room. It's one I've read before. I sit on the old couch for the next hour or so pretending to read. Really thinking. My leg bounces up and down. The excitement of what I may have found chases away the worry. I gotta dig deeper.

I cough, my chest rattling.

A shadow moves in front of me, catching my attention. Stubs is staring out the window. I tell him it's going to rain and he walks away without a word. Confused, I watch the clouds brew in the darkening June sky, feeling the electricity buzzing in the air.

A voice sounds over the intercom telling me I have a visitor.

XxX

Darry's sitting at a card table. He has a bundle next to him and an irritated expression on his face. I hurry over, my footprints echoing across the hollow room. "Hey, Dar. Where's Soda? He okay? He called me earlier about something." I pull out a chair and sit down. "You can't keep driving up here. That's got to get expensive and I know—"

"Ponyboy, I found these in your room." Darry's tone is flat. He slides the bundle over. It's a folder. I open it. They're my clippings – the ones about the suicides. I pick one up; then lay it back down like it's burned me.

I should have known he'd figure it out; he always does.

"Darry, you can't bring these here." Closing the folder, I push them back. "If someone sees th—"

"I knew it," Darry says, shaking his head, interrupting me. "I knew it was something else. Christ, Ponyboy. You have to get out of here."

"So, _you_ think there's something fishy too?" I lean forward, eager. "You know, no one else would listen to us. Nick and I—"

"Ponyboy, shut up," Darry says, reaching over to grab my forearm. He holds me still. "I don't know what to think. All I know is that I don't want you here when six people – _patients_ – have already died."

"Only 10 more days, Dar."

"No. No way, Pony. Not 10 more days."

"I'm going to figure it out. So just let me."

"This is dangerous and idiotic."

"Darry, I don't wanna talk about this," I say, lowering my voice and keeping eyes out for any lurking ears. "And be quiet would ya? Someone's gonna hear us."

"Listen, I'm not done talking with you—"

"You mean _at_ me. I swear, Dar, you never listen. I'm doing this. I'm 18. I'm sorry I lied to you and Soda but I had to."

"You're not a detective, Pony. You could get hurt and—why am I even arguing with you about this?" Darry scoots back in his chair, ready to stand. "I'm getting you out of here."

"Darry, no," I say. I snatch his arm, tugging him back into his seat. "This is my job. I have to figure this out."

"Why? Why is it so goddamned important?"

"If they didn't kill themselves don't you think their parents, their families, deserve to know? Wouldn't you want to?" Darry doesn't say anything, instead, his jaw jumps. "Look," I continue. "Nick's in on it, Max too; I'm fine in here. Nothing is going to happen."

"If they didn't kill themselves," Darry says, "Then someone did. And you're in here with them." I don't break Darry's stare and he suddenly curses. "Goddamn it, I wish you were still 17. I'd have your ass out of here so fast…" He sits back and watches me with his blue eyes. "So I'm what? Just supposed to leave you here now that I know?"

I give a soft chuckle. "You weren't supposed to know, Dar. That was kind of the plan."

"I'm the only one who reads the paper at our house, Ponyboy. I figured it out."

"And you went snooping in my room."

"Liz was cleaning. She found them."

"How is Liz?"

"Don't change the subject, Pony."

"Darry."

He looks away. "She moved out."

"What?" The _what_ comes out loud and without turning I can feel orderlies and nurses stirring. "What? Why?" I repeat, lower this time. A raised voice is a code red and after being in The Box something tells me to not draw any more attention to myself.

"Don't worry about it."

The old uneasiness begins to build within. Jitteriness I've been trying to escape. "I'm sorry, Darry. It's my fault." Darry starts shaking his head as I talk. "Everything's a mess, ever since I came back."

"It _ain't_ your fault, kiddo. Liz and me, well we got stuff to work out." Darry gives me a tense smile. "Don't go thinkin' it was you, because it wasn't. You were just…well just…"

"The snowball," I say, exhaling.

"Just get better," Darry says. "Get better and come home."

"That's what we're hoping for too."

Darry and I swivel heads. Dr. Please, who's been circling the room, is now standing in front of us. "I'm Doctor Please," he says to Darry. "Your brother's therapist." Please extends a hand.

The look Darry gives me makes my stomach bounce. _Therapist_? "Uh, Darrel Curtis," Darry says, shaking Dr. Please's hand. When he's done, Darry crosses his arms against his broad chest. His biceps bulge.

"Your brother seems to be adjusting fine here," Please says. Darry nods. "We've had some good chats, haven't we Ponyboy?"

"Yes, sir."

Please glances at Darry again. "It's nice to see Ponyboy has the support of his family."

I bite my lip. Darry's frowning. "Of course he does," Darry says. Please smiles, eyes brushing over us and Darry moves his arms to cover the folder full of clippings.

"I hope we'll talk again soon. Pony, I'll see you tomorrow for your session." Please touches my shoulder before moving off.

"Pony…" Darry's voice is hoarse. He's watching Please chat with another patient, his face warring with something I can't read. Suddenly, Darry grabs my hand. "10 days, Ponyboy. Then you're home, solved or not. And just _listen_, kiddo. Don't _do_ anything stupid."

XxX

Stubs' door is open.

I tried to catch him after Pill Line-Up but he had hurried off, ignoring everyone. As he had been earlier in the rec room, he's standing near his window watching the rain fall.

Outside, thunder rumbles.

I place a hand on the doorframe, unsure if I should enter. "Stubs," I say. "You okay?"

He doesn't turn. Instead still staring. Then he says, "Maybe I'd be okay if I could get some damned air in this place." Stubs slams his fists against the window. The glass shakes. His fingers scrabble to open it, despite being bolted shut.

"Some god damned air!" he shouts. "How can anyone breathe in here?" Turning around, he eyes me. "What do you want?"

"Are you okay, Stubs? What's going on, man?"

"Just leave me alone. Go away. You ain't got nothing to say that I want to hear. You got that? Go. Get the hell out!"

XxX

"I think he needs help," I say to the woman at the Nurses Station. Stubs can be heard hollering down the hall. The nurse hurries off, barking orders. A swarm of orderlies and nurses follow.

Anxious, I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms. I chew my lip, wanting a smoke but knowing better.

"Don't worry, honey…" Marie, who's appeared, puts a hand on my shoulder. "He'll be okay." She leans back against the counter with me.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He goes kind of…funny in the head sometimes." Marie smiles and her teeth are crooked. "Normally, Stubs is a real nice guy. He's so happy. But then every once in a while he'll get sad."

"He gets stuck in the dark…" I murmur.

Marie blinks. I look down at my shoes and rub my chest. "Why yes," she says. "That's the perfect—what do they call it—_expression_ for it." She touches my hair. "You sure do have a way with words, child."

XxX

After a quick phone call to Nick, who promises to visit tomorrow, I go back for the book I had been trying to reading earlier. It's almost lights out and I'm not quite ready to sleep. I don't think my brain can with all the information it's storing.

The rec room is empty. I grab the book, tucking it under my arm, and hurry back. I take a left and then stop. A faint rustling noise is coming from around the corner. I look behind me. Not a nurse or orderly in sight.

I go back. I turn a corner, walking into a smaller room that houses a couch and a water fountain. "Hello?" There's another noise and I jump, whirling around. A fat face pops out of a dark nook. Tin rattles.

It's Lester, digging through a communal trash can.

"What're you doing?" I ask. He pushes his glasses higher on his nose. "It's lights out." He keeps staring at me. A pit forms in my stomach.

"Whatever, man. I gotta go."

Lester grabs my arm as I try to pass. Shoves me back against the wall. I swear, trying to push his fat body away from me. His breath is rank and moldy. Hot against my face. My eyes widen, getting something. I jerk my arms, blocking him. He tosses me back, my head snapping into the wall. Stars swirl.

"Lester!"

Immediately, Lester drops me. I fold into a half-crouch, catching my breath, looking up at Nurse Wilkes who stands in the entryway to the small room. "Leave that boy alone," she says. Her face is pale but her voice is strong. "You git." She shoos him back and like a cowering animal, Lester gives me one last glance and ducks out. I can hear his heavy trotting down the hall.

Nurse Wilkes helps me stand. "Ponyboy, are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm so sorry. Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

She makes me sit down on the small couch. "He won't hurt you," she says. "Don't you worry; I won't let anything happen." She runs a comforting hand down my arm, squeezing tight. "You should go to bed. It's late."

Rising, I take a few shuffled steps forward and turn. I look back at her. Scratch my head. "Lester…he…?"

"Just—Just be careful around Lester, Ponyboy."

"Do the doctors know?"

"They're trying to fix him."

There's vomit, moving into my throat. I force it down.

XxX

The next morning is Sunday; I catch Flora as she's coming out of the small room that doubles as a Chapel. She's chewing on gum. She has her bible in her hands. She's in sweats and a black t-shirt. I ask if I can talk to her. It's about yesterday, I tell her.

"Wanna get breakfast?" she asks, spitting out the wad that was in her cheek. It's not gum. It's paper. A page from her bible.

XxX

"Don't let the guard see," Flora says, as she starts breaking apart pieces of her plastic fork and chewing on them. One by one she pops the parts into her mouth; the waffles on her plate untouched.

"Flora," I say. "I don't think you're supposed to do that."

"I do it all the time."

I just watch her, eating plastic, until I say, "Can I ask you something? The other day…who were you talking about? Who keeps leaving?"

"All of them."

"Do you mean Jamie? David?"

"Yes and yes."

"Did you know…?" My mind filters black and white faces from the clippings. "Paul or Joanie? Luke?"

"Uh huh." Flora's eyes are bright. "Joanie was my pal. My best girl."

"Which ward was she in?"

"This one right here. We were all in the same group. All of us." Flora says. She eats a piece of her napkin.

"Dr. Please was their doctor." I sit back. I pull out a smoke. I almost offer Flora one but stop myself; I'm afraid she'll eat it.

"I like Dr. Please," Flora says, almost defensive. She frowns, tugs at her hair. "Joanie did too. He's nice. Real nice. Just like you."

XxX

"It was nice of your brother to come see you yesterday."

Nice. I wince at the word. I also wince at the man who may or may not have something to do with six deaths at Cherry Hills. 30 minutes of pleasantries and bullshit and talking about my parents and now this. I keep waiting for the part about why I'm taking the pills but so far we haven't gotten there yet. My body tenses.

"Why do you keep making those comments?"

"What comments, Ponyboy?"

"The ones about Darry. You act like you're surprised he cares."

"Clearly my observations bother you."

"Well, yeah." Sitting back in the leather chair, I cross my arms. "That's my brother."

"Tell me more about him," Dr. Please says. "What I'm picking up is that you have very strong feelings regarding your oldest brother. Tell me…" Please chews the end of his pencil and then points it at me. "Tell me how he feels about you being here. You mentioned to Dr. Carson in your first meeting that he'd 'kill you.'"

I lace my fingers together, folding my hands in a ball to keep calm. "I didn't mean it like that. That sounded bad. Darry would never do that…I meant that…he wouldn't want me here."

"He doesn't want you to get help."

"No—he just—Darry likes to fix things on his own." I figured it out yesterday when his head had jerked up at the mention of therapy.

"He's protective." I nod. "And what about Soda?"

I smile. "Soda's easy. Always laughin or something. He gets everything."

"And Darry doesn't?"

"Darry wants his way," I say, searching for explanation, getting roped into a talk I don't want but yet the need for it pulls. "And…I want mine. Soda's always been...diplomatic."

Please cracks a smile. "I think you're the first patient who's ever used that word in here." I chuckle and Please says, "So you and Darry butt heads a lot, is that safe to say?"

"Sure. At least we used to."

"Used to. And why is that?"

"I don't know."

"Ponyboy, you have an idea. I'd like to hear it."

"Darry thinks he's right. All the time. He's never listened to me…and I know he's just doing what he thinks is best but it gets old. I guess I always had it in the back of my mind that if he won't listen …"

"You won't listen either."

I nod once and then shake my head, clearing it. "But that was a long time ago. Darry and I we're fine now. We're workin' on it."

Please scribbles something. "Ponyboy…do you feel bad for being here?

"What?" Please is quiet. I think about it. "I guess. Kind of."

"And why is that? To me, you've taken a step to heal yourself. That's very brave."

"It sure as hell doesn't feel brave." I stare at my hands. Clench and unclench them. "I'd never thought I'd be like this. That I'd be a…a failure."

"That's how you see yourself?"

"Well, when you had to be pulled out of school by your brothers and you're popping pills it's kind of hard to feel any other way." I take a breath. "So yeah. I kind of do see myself like that."

"Do you think Darry does too?"

My chest hurts. "I wouldn't blame him if he did."

XxX

It's raining when Nick arrives in the evening. His hair's soaked, face pelted with raindrops. "Damn," he says when he plops into the chair, "it's really coming down. I almost didn't make it up here." He squints at me. "Hell, what's wrong with you? You look like you've been socked in the gut."

I smear my hair back. "Therapy. It's kicking my ass."

"Digging down deep, huh?"

"Yeah," I chuckle. "No one told me this was part of the plan."

"I'm sure you got some shit, huh?"

"You better believe it."

Lowering my voice, I tell Nick what I've found out so far. He listens to the part about The Box, shaking his head and telling me I got a pair of balls on me and seems disturbed when I mention someone else had to be behind the deaths.

Which brings me to Please.

"He treated all of them," I finally finish. "Every one."

"Jackpot." Nick bangs his hand on the table in victory, his token motion.

"It can't be coincidence."

"Shit no. Wait, he's your doc, ain't he?" When I nod, he asks, "You get a weird vibe?"

"Kind of," I say, shrugging. "He's so…intense. Always lurking."

"What if…? Okay, look, Curtis. Ask around. Ask your friends here if the people who died had…issues."

I roll my eyes. "Everyone here has issues, Nick. It's why we're here."

"Smart ass." But he laughs. "No, ask them if they were depressed or if the suicides came as a surprise."

I sit back and just look at him like he's off his rocker. "It's a good idea, but don't you think that's gonna make it pretty obvious I'm hunting around?"

"No, it ain't. Pretend like you just found out and you're a curious kid. They'd never think you're up to something in a million ye—" Nick starts. "Jesus, Curtis."

I show him my shaky hands. "I'm getting off the pills. Side effect." I wipe sweat from my forehead.

XxX

Taking Nick's advice, I scour the rec room, going around and visiting with patients. I make small talk hoping to dig deeper. Clarence, Marie, and others I don't know that well all seem unaffected by my questions and answer them freely. Still, I try to act unassuming.

I ask Marie about Joanie Banks, feigning interest in what Flora mentioned to me earlier. "No way," Marie says. "That girl was as bubbly as they come. Sure she was in here but she was happy. She only had a few more days until she got sprung."

It's the same story from a lot of people.

Clarence, engrossed in a chess game with his own self, tells me that Jamie Coleman died two days before he was going to be released.

"Was he depressed?" I ask, fingers curling around the back of a chair.

Clarence gives me a blank stare and moves a rook. "No more than the rest of us here."

I watch him a moment and then move off to find Flora. I haven't seen Stubs since last night.

XxX

Flora's hanging up the payphone. "No one was home," she says. Her face is sad.

"I'm sorry," I tell her. She holds the phone out to me. I take it and she walks off. I call my house. As the phone rings, I get the odd sensation of being watched. The hallway fills with a coldness; a wave of gloom descending. Hairs prick on my neck. I taste ice in my mouth.

"—lo?"

"Steve?" Distracted, I step past the payphone, the cord jerking me in place as I try to peer down the dark hallway. Someone moves in the shadows.

"Yeah—Kid? Hey, how are ya?"

"I'm good. Just callin' to check in."

Steve snorts. "Ain't that the truth. Hold on, I'll get one of 'em."

I forget about the phone call and keep staring down the hall. Somewhere, hurried footsteps. A door creaks and shuts.

XxX

_Pardon typos._

_SE Hinton owns the Outsiders._

_This story is taking on a life of its own so I hope it's still keeping your attention. Yowza. Stupid plot._

_Please read and review. Many uber-thanks. And I hope you all enjoyed._

_XO,_

_Feisty_


	13. Toughed Up, Ticked Off, Freaked Out

Toughed Up, Ticked Off, Freaked Out

XxX

The next morning, I nearly fall in the shower.

Instead, I catch myself on the towel rack. I turn off the water and despite being soaked quickly change into jeans and a t-shirt. I refuse to wear the sweat pants Cherry Hills provides.

The room sways and tilts. The meds Dr. Please has prescribed aren't working so far. I'm tired; even getting out of bed is a chore. I thump my chest and cough into my hands.

It's a new week. It's Monday.

XxX

They let us go outside after breakfast for morning visiting hours. No one comes for me, which is understandable. They have to work.

I settle on a picnic bench underneath a large tree. Even though it's only 11, the air's thick with humidity. Dark clouds swirl above. Nurse Wilkes and Apple Face chat near the large doors, watching us with eagle sight. Unfamiliar doctors mill around the yard. Stubs swaggers over. His beard is longer than it was when I first met him, reminding me of a mountain man.

"Fancy meeting you here," he says, joining me at the bench.

"Wasn't sure I'd be seeing much of you anymore."

"The other day…well, I lost my marbles. Apologies."

"Don't sweat it, man." Thunder rumbles. We both glance toward the sky. "How long you been here, Stubs?"

"A year. I left once but came back."

"How come?"

"I just couldn't make it out." Stubs lights a smoke. I decline the one he offers me but still break into a hearty cough. He tells me I should get that checked out.

He takes a drag. "You were asking about Jamie? The other ones who died. Why all the questions, kid?" I note he doesn't say _killed themselves_.

"Uh, yeah," I say. "My brother was talking about it. I got curious." I shrug, hoping it seems innocent enough.

"He was a good kid," Stubs says. "I never thought Jamie—or any of them – woulda done what they did. They were better than most of us. They were almost out of here….But then…well, it's strange stuff…"

I sit, trying not to ask, trying to seem interested in the game of Frisbee happening in the distance, when the whole time, my leg's bouncing a mile a minute underneath the table. "But then…" Stubs continues. "Near the end…it's like they lost hope. Something beat them down. But it wasn't them that was doing it. Can you dig that?"

Smoke swirls in front of Stubs' face. White wisps. He ashes as I nod. "Hells bells, I haven't a clue what I'm saying. I just never would have bet money on Jamie Coleman emptying out his wrists."

XxX

We have group therapy outside, sitting in a ring on the lawn. It's an easy conversation – Marie talks about the voices in her head, Clarence his problem with what he calls "the drink." Lester mumbles to himself, Flora chews her hair and Stubs avoids looking my way.

XxX

I go back to my room and write everything down. The crayon doesn't even bother me anymore. When I'm done, I beg another piece of tape off the nurse at the front desk and affix the newest bundle of notes underneath the drawer of my nightstand.

XxX

I stay in my room and stare at cracks in the ceiling. Sleep the afternoon away. When I wake, Apple Face comes by and tells me I've missed a phone call.

XxX

Knowing I should call my brothers but not wanting to get into it, I wander to the rec room, skipping dinner. No one from my group is there except Clarence. Others mingle, reading, playing ping pong, cards. It reminds me a bit of high school; everyone has their cliques. I miss Two-Bit and Steve something fierce.

I pull out a chair at Clarence's table. With his round glasses and pensive gaze he reminds me of a Billy goat, quiet yet searching for something. "Ponyboy, you know chess?" His voice is grave.

"I don't," I say.

"Let me learn you," Clarence says, gnarled fingers reaching out to scrape up the pieces. "Everyone needs to know how to play. It's a game of skill. Of wit."

"Okay, Clarence. Okay."

He hands me a pawn.

XxX

The pills are slowing me down. I'm groggy and go rest on the L-shaped couch. I'm almost nodding off when the couch shifts. My eyes widen. "Liz?"

"Oh, Ponyboy," she says, touching my knee. "You look awful."

"Darry said you moved out."

Her mouth moves without a sound. She opens her purse and pulls out a small mirror. She shows me. I take the mirror and hold it up to get a better look. I hold back a wince. Five days at Cherry Hills and it looks like I've been sleeping in the gutter.

I give the mirror back to her, coughing once. "Why're you here, Liz?"

"Believe it or not, Ponyboy, I wanted to come." Her black ponytail bobs as she shakes her head. "I wanted to see how you were." Her chin juts out defiantly, reminding me of Cherry Valance.

"I'm okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I sit up straight and eye her. "So why'd you leave?"

Liz holds up a hand. "I didn't leave because of you, if that's what you want to ask. I needed time to think about Darry. And about myself." She lets out a shaky breath. "I didn't treat you right, Ponyboy."

"It's okay. I acted like a brat."

"It's no excuse. You're Darry's brother and you're sick. You needed help and I tried to ignore it. I tried to make you leave."

"Aw, shit, Liz, look—"

"I am sorry, Ponyboy," Liz says, clearing her throat. Blinking. I just shift awkwardly on the couching, trying to ignore the tickle in my throat; trying not to cough.

XxX

It's during Pill Line-Up that I know something's wrong. I stand sandwiched in-between Marie and Stubs. Marie's chattering about something and Stubs is nodding his thoughtful nod. I brace a hand on the wall behind me.

Shit. Not now.

The room tilts gray. I slide down the wall, landing on the linoleum floor.

Stupid cigarettes.

XxX

It's dark and there's the sound of rain. I try to move and realize I'm not in my bed. Not in the bed at my home or my room in Cherry Hills. I'm someplace white and sterile. I shut my eyes and remember what it's like to sleep.

XxX 

"You'll be okay," a voice whispers. Soft shoes shuffle on the linoleum.

XxX

With a gasp, I fly up out of bed, pushing covers off. My eyes take in the room – white and clean, smelling of antiseptic and mint. There're two beds in the room – one's empty, the other has an older man asleep.

Nurse Wilkes pops into my vision. "You're awake." She gives me a sad smile. "You poor thing."

I brush hair out of my eyes. "What happened?"

"You're in the infirmary." Wilkes pats her breastbone. "You shouldn't have been smoking. It set you back quite a ways. Now Pony, lay still and let me help you."

The needle looms.

XxX

Soda has my hand. "Kiddo."

"Sodapop," I say, jerking upwards.

My brother exhales. It's shallow and his eyes are dark. He's next to the bed in a rickety aluminum chair. "You're okay, Ponyboy."

"Where am I? What day is it?" My mind reels, thinking the worst. What if I've been out for days, the assignment's over, the case gone—

"Calm down. It's Tuesday morning," Soda says. "You collapsed last night." I see the crook of my arm, the white bandage wrapped tight. "Your doc says you've been smoking."

"I was but I stopped."

"Yeah, you've said that before."

"I'm sorry, Sodapop."

Soda looks off to the left. His grip is still tight. He looks back. "You're gonna give me a fuckin' heart attack, Ponyboy. You gotta stop it."

I rip the white bandage off my arm, scooting closer to my brother, the best I can do in the hospital bed with its restrictive guardrails. "Soda, listen—"

He leans closer. "Darry told me what you're doing. You gotta cut this shit and cut it now."

XxX

Darry thunders through the double doors, trailed by Nurse Wilkes. She scurries after, bypassing him and then ends up at my side. She has a small cup of pills. "They're putting you on stronger medicine for your pneumonia," Darry says, without a word of greeting. His face is murderous.

Nurse Wilkes hands me the pills and a cup of water. Dutifully, I swallow them down. "I'll uh, let you boys say goodbye," Wilkes says. Soda pushes back from the bed. They've been here for as long as they can, the doctors telling them they have to go; I'm fine now.

The tension is thick as she leaves. "Darry…I uh…"

My brother moves from the foot of the bed to the side. He looks down at me, various expressions flickering across his face. Worry then anger; looking like he wants to hug me but then stopping his self.

"Ponyboy," Darry says and his voice shakes in its strength. "If I catch you smoking again, if I _hear_ you've been smoking, if I have to come back for something like this again, I'm gonna break your arm. That'll put an end to your smoking pretty damn quick." Stunned, I just sit, until Darry says, "You got that?"

I nod.

Darry turns on his heel and stomps out of the room. Soda sighs. He bends over the bed, kissing the top of my head before he leaves. "I love you, kiddo. But I won't stop him."

XxX

I get discharged and Nurse Wilkes takes me back to my room. She heard Darry's threat and has been fussing all the way. "You poor thing," she's saying. "You must have had a hard life. I don't understand how he can talk to you that way…"

Tired, I try to tune her out. I'm not even upset with my brothers. It's me I'm pissed off at. "Nah," I say. "He's right."

Plopping on my bed, I watch as Nurse Wilkes signs off on my chart. The dark sky outside my window is flashing with lighting. Scratching my itchy palms, I think of the cigarettes and what I'm doing to Darry and Soda. "It's not worth it," I mutter to myself. "Not anymore."

Nurse Wilkes drops the clipboard. We both jump and she stutters apologies. Finally, she goes and I look to the ceiling, breathing out. I wish for a better day but something tells me I'm not going to get it.

XxX

I don't.

My crayons have worn down to nubs and I'm no longer able to write with them. Apple Face scolds me for missing my pills and when I tell her where I've been she doesn't listen, just shoves meds in my face.

On my way into my session with Please I'm bombarded.

Flora, Marie, Stubs, even Clarence, crowd, asking how I am, if I'm dying, if I lived, what happened? "I'm fine," I tell them, shoving forward. I leave them behind me, still questioning. Hot embarrassment clouds my face.

I bump into Lester as I turn the corner. He stares; beady black eyes in a fat face. He makes a moaning noise. Disgusted, I shove him away. "What's your problem? Just leave us alone, will ya? Jesus…"

By the time I get to Please's office, I have bones to pick.

XxX

The office is dark and damp, courtesy of the sky. Even the lamp barely has a chance to light up the room. Rain falls outside. The pitter-patter heavy on the roof. I can hear it echo. I stifle a shiver. And I'm not sure if it's Darry's hard words, my mood or the gloomy day but everything seems wrong.

Please brings up my parents, my smoking and Johnny and Dallas. "Stop it," I tell him, as he presses, asking questions I'd rather answer.

"It's natural to feel responsible, Ponyboy," Please says. "You were young, impressionable and if no one ever took the time to talk to you about your feelings—"

"What is it with you and feelings?" I snap. "It's all you ever want to talk about. It's all I hear about in this place."

"I want to get to the underlying issues. The root of your feelings is very—"

"Screw my feelings."

Laying his pen down, Please removes his glasses. Clears his throat. "Let's talk about your smoking. I saw your brothers in the waiting room. They were upset." I shift. Cough into my hands. Wipe palms on my jeans. He continues.

"I know. I know. Jesus Christ, I know."

"Do you ever stop to think about how it affects them?"

"Every day, man."

"Ponyboy, if you aren't aware of what's surrounding you, then how will you help yourself? How will you get better? I thought you came here to get help. For results."

Something snaps; a rubber band breaking. "I thought this was about pills not dissecting my brain…rehashing the god damned past." I shake my head, standing. "I can't do it. I can't talk about Johnny and—about them."

"Ponyboy, sit down—"

I'm gone before Dr. Please finishes his sentence.

XxX

My fist hits the wall. It hurts like hell but feels better. Nurse Wilkes, catching me as she's walking out of the supply room, grabs the sleeve of my shirt.

"Stop that," she says. "They'll put you in the Box." Tugging away, I storm off, Wilkes calling after. I wish there was a track in front of me and that I could run laps for miles.

I reach the common room, eyes barely grazing the crowd, patients and their families, when there's another grab on my elbow. It's Dr. Please. "Ponyboy," he says. "Let's discuss this. In my office."

"Look, will you just leave me alone? I'm not talking to you."

"Ponyboy, I'd suggest you come along with me right now."

Before I can snap, I see the orderlies swarming. I shut my trap. Take a step back. "You're right. I'm sorry. Can we talk tomorrow? I need to calm down."

Please looks relieved. "That's a good idea. Yes, we'll do that. I'll set aside some time." He checks his watch. Glances up, gazing past me. "I'll let you get back to your visitor."

Please leaves, the orderlies retreat and I turn.

XxX

Max sits me down and makes me talk. "What the fuck was that?" He's in a leather jacket and blue jeans, his dark sunglasses kept on.

"That was my doctor…he—"

"Not that. _That_." Max jabs his index finger against my chest. "Flying off the handle, Curtis."

"I know, I _know_."

"Pitching a hissy fit ain't gonna help you here. You gotta keep low. I thought you knew that."

"I did—I—I do."

"Bullshit," Max says. "You're crackin."

"No, I ain't." I swear and smear my hands over my face. "I'm just—I can't—I mean, this place…Shit."

Max reaches out and holds my face between his rough hands. "You're gonna be okay. You just got to keep a cool head. Understand me?"

"Yeah."

He boxes the sides of my face gently and then lets go. "Now. Let's talk, Curtis."

XxX

Wednesday rolls around and I still have no new information. Max's warning lingers in my mind to keep my ears open and blend in.

XxX

I cover my eyes with a hand as Flora and Dr. Please begin arguing. I set my book aside.

What starts as a firm lecture as to why Flora should not be eating inedible objects has now progressed. Flora's screaming. Everyone in the rec room frozen. Our assigned nurse, Nurse Wilkes, steps up, carrying a tray. Dr. Please motions to her to stay put.

Clarence is silent, Marie and Stubs trying to help out; appease both the doctor and Flora. She turns her eyes towards us, pleading. "Can you see we're lost? Hopeless and done for?"

"Now, now Flora…" Marie soothes. "What happened, honey?"

Flora starts crying, her lank blonde hair drenching her face. She smears it back. "Why do let him stay here?" She points.

I look down, thinking she's pointing at me, when I see she's pointing at Lester. Dr. Please blanches. "Flora, I don't know what you mean."

"You know exactly what I mean," she hisses. "You know what he likes. What he does. You know!"

Lester's mumbling _I can't help it_, and rocking back and forth in a corner, trance-like. He covers his ears as Flora's voice rises. The sickly sweet taste builds in my stomach.

It goes downhill from there. Flora flips out and Nurse Wilkes surreptitiously steps up, sticking a needle in the crook of her arm. Shushing, Nurse Wilkes makes her sit down. Flora stays quiet.

XxX

Please stops by after the scene. Hands me a freshly sharpened pencil. The tip gleams. "As promised," he says, before walking off. He doesn't look too happy.

I twirl the pencil between my fingers. Sink low in my chair, resting elbows on the card table and scan the tense room. Flora's gone, whisked away someplace. Stubs and Marie chat in a corner. Clarence plays chess. It's one of the first times I feel truly alone. On edge.

I wrap an arm around my piece of paper, like I'm back in high school and protecting a test from prying eyes. I try to write but instead end up thinking about Cherry Hills. It's starting to scare me.

Time passes and there's a tap on my arm. "Writing something good?"

Looking up, I smile at Stubs, twisting around in my chair to talk to him. "I sure hope so." Finished, I lay the pencil down, fold my notes into a neat square and stuff them into my pocket.

Stubs taps his temple. "How can you keep it all straight?"

"I try. Harder every day."

"What do you keep writing?"

"Stories. Nothing special."

"Maybe one day you'll let me read one of 'em."

"Maybe."

Stubs eyes widen and at first I think he's found me out, discovered what I'm really doing at Cherry Hills when he says, "Lester – don't—"

I turn. Movements blur into slow motion. Lester has my pencil in his fat fist. "I didn't mean to," he says. Then, before Stubs or I can do anything, he stabs. He stabs again. Another time. The sharp end of the pencil keeps piercing his throat, making a sickening mushy sound, jabbing straight through. My chair flies back, I'm on my feet; Stubs is swearing.

Everything erupts. Orderlies and nurses rush Lester, who is now on the ground, twitching. Please wrenches his coat off, pressing it against Lester's throat. The blood rushes red. I cover my mouth, sickened. Down the hall, the payphone starts ringing.

XxX

_Pardon typos. Hinton owns the Outsiders. _

_Happy Memorial Day and long weekend everyone. I wasn't sure whether or not to post but please read and review if you can. They make me very happy. You all are the best._

_XO,  
Feisty_


	14. Sometimes a Pony Gets Depressed

_Fair warning: Cliffhanger below._

Sometimes a Pony Gets Depressed

XxX

They rush us back to our rooms.

I sink into the corner chair burying my face in my hands. My brain flickers. The image of Lester twitching on the ground, his hand still wrapped around my pencil, nurses working, blood pouring from the hole in his neck, pooling on the blue carpet, the gaping wound leaking bright red—

"Stop!" I yell into my palms, hoping to erase the mental picture. I jump out of the chair and start pacing. And I don't want to say it, don't even want to _think_ it, least of all here, but it feels like I'm going crazy. Honest-to-god batshit insane. My fault. Myfaultmyfaultmyfault.

And it is my fault. It was my pencil, the one I had bargained so hard to get. I stop in my tracks, stand straight and take a deep breath.

Frantic noises murmur in the hallway, behind my closed door. I go press a hand against it, listening carefully but can pick up on nothing. The rain's coming down outside, falling in thick sheets against the darkening afternoon sky. I chew my thumb. Pace some more. Finally, I plop onto my bed so haphazardly that it shakes, bumping my nightstand and knocking a few items onto the floor.

I crawl down on the ground, setting each item back on the nightstand as I go through them. The few nubs of crayons, a sheet of paper, the picture frame containing the photo of me, Darry and Soda, a book—

I reach back up and grip the black picture frame. I hold it steady in my hands and do a double take. Cherry Hills overlooked something of mine.

I tap the pane of picture framing glass with a fingernail.

XxX

Nurse Wilkes's mouth is set in a sad, straight line. I bus my lunch tray. "How's Lester?"

"I shouldn't say yet."

"Well," I say. "Can you just let me know?" I move to leave when Wilkes sighs.

"Oh, Ponyboy, you should have just left the pencil alone." She's shaking her head. "This never would have happened."

"I—It was an accident. I never meant for him to…"

"Honey, you should just go back to your room at the moment," Wilkes says. "Things are tense around here and I don't want to upset any other patients."

Stunned, I glance across the lunchroom, seeing my group eating at a small table. No one looks up. No one notices as I leave.

XxX

I walk down the hall, discombobulated. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I stifle a cough; press a hand against my tight chest.

"Ponyboy Curtis."

I wrap a hand around the doorknob of my room, glancing over my shoulder. Apple Face has hands on her hips. Her hair is pulled into a tight bun. "Emergency session with Dr. Please." I'm quiet and she gestures to the other end of the hallway. "Well? Get going."

My face feels numb. "But I thought…"

"You thought what?"

"I thought that uh, on because of Lester…"

"Things aren't canceled, Ponyboy," Apple Face says. "Life goes on." She turns on her heel, marching past me. "He's waiting for you."

XxX

Please is ruffled. Sitting behind his desk, his face is twisted into a pained grimace. I sit across from him, perching on the edge of the leather chair. An important question is on my mind. It has been in fact for the last few days and I'm going to get an answer here.

Please lets out a sigh. Takes off his glasses. Picks up a pencil. "How are you doing, Ponyboy?"

My laugh is sharp. "Let's just say I'll never look at a pencil the same way again."

"Apologies." Swiftly, Please sticks the pencil in a drawer and pulls out a ballpoint pen. He clicks the end. My body loosens. "Now Ponyboy—"

"How's Lester?"

"He's alive. He lost a lot of blood but will be fine," Please says. "But right now I'm concerned with you, how you're coping."

"Why? Because it's my fault?"

Please frowns. "No, Pony, that's not what I meant."

"Well, it sure as hell feels like it." I lean forward, wrapping my arms around my knees.

"I'm concerned," Please continues. "Because you were closest to it. I don't want you to feel how you are feeling now." He taps the pen and then writes something. "You do this a lot don't you? Blame yourself."

I sit, quiet. Nervous fear brewing. I avert my eyes to the window where the trees are blowing, rain battering down.

"Are you ready to talk about them?" Please asks. He means Dallas and Johnny. I grit my teeth and tell him I can't. Not yet. Please says, "When you're ready." I nod and it doesn't mean anything but I appreciate Please's respectful distance.

"If anyone is at fault, it's myself for allowing you to have a pencil, supervised or not." Please makes a clucking sound. "Whether you believe it or not, Ponyboy. I want to help you. In fact, you're doing better than you think. Making progress."

"I don't know about that."

"Son, do you realize it's been it's been a week since you've had one of your pills to help you along. Have you noticed that?"

I cross my arms, lean back, unsure whether to feel pleased or stunned. I don't know what to say and Please can see that.

He gives me an honest smile. "Ponyboy, what I write down in here is all confidential. It stays in this office." He pats the manila folder on his desk. "My eyes only." The file cabinets behind Please suddenly catch my attention. "Tell me what's on your mind," Please says. I forget about the files for now and answer him.

"I-I guess, I'm wondering…is…what good is this? I mean Stubs has been in and out of here, does this—" I wave hands in the air, "even work? I mean what if I go back out and do the same thing after I leave? Take the pills all over again."

"A relapse?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

"That worries you."

"I couldn't do that to my brothers again."

"Interesting…" Please tics the pen against his notepad.

I drum my fingers against the armrest. "What _interesting_? Why don't you just say what you mean?"

There's an amused twinkle in Please's eye. "Fine then." He clears his throat, turning serious. "It's interesting to note that you put so much more stock in getting help because of your brothers. You're doing this for them instead of yourself. Why is that?"

It's automatic. "I don't want to let them down."

"What about you?" A long silence lingers in the room. "Pony," Please says. "While I appreciate that, you can't get sober for anyone but yourself."

I shake my head. I don't have an answer for him. Please checks his watch. "I have another patient, Ponyboy. We'll continue this tomorrow in your regular session."

I nod and stand. Walking toward the door, I remember the question. I have to ask it, despite knowing the answer already. My hand lingers on the doorknob. Gut tightening; I eye the doctor. "So, was Flora right?"

Please blinks. "Pardon?"

"About Lester."

"Pony, perhaps we should—"

"No, I want to know. Was she right?"

"Yes, Ponyboy. She was."

It's like a baseball bat to the face. The air leaves me. "He likes kids."

"Correct."

"And you let him stay _here_?"

"Everyone's over 18," Please says, flushing. White knuckles stand out on his folded hands. "We didn't expect that he'd…he'd react in this way to Flora and—" Please stops and nods slightly. "But you're right. We should have known. You two look young enough. I'm sorry, Ponyboy. He'll be discharged after he heals."

I leave Please, stunned and reeling. Who really heals here?

XxX

I punch the numbers to my house for the second time and listen to the line ring. "Darry, where the hell are you?" I slam the receiver down, the ringing echoing in my ears. I need someone to talk to. Someone on the outside to tell me I'm not out of my mind.

I call Nick. No answer.

Frustrated, I hang up and wheel around. I slam into Marie. "Honey," she says, taking my hands. "Are you okay?"

And just the smile on Marie's face, the sheer human connection makes me crack. She pulls me in for a hug.

XxX

"We were looking all over for ya," Stubs says, settling across from me on the L-shaped couch. He's smoking but it doesn't bother me. He ashes. "You left lunch so fast we didn't get a chance to talk."

"I thought you were mad at me," I say, sounding about all of five-years-old.

Marie touches my knee. "What're you talking about, honey?"

"But I thought Nurse Wilkes—" I shake my head. "Never mind. I honestly don't know what I'm talking about anymore." Laughing, I shrug. "God, I really don't."

Stubs swirls a finger around his temple. "Feeling the crazies?"

"Oh, you stop that," Marie clucks, swatting his hand. She looks at me. "It's not your fault, Ponyboy. Weird things happen here." After a brief glance at Stubs, Marie crosses herself and a shiver runs down my spine.

XxX

Later that afternoon, Apple Face takes me to the infirmary for my check up. The doctor-on- call listens to my lungs with a stethoscope. Frowning, he hooks me up to the same breathing apparatus I used in Tulsa. He hands me a magazine and leaves, letting the machine work. I think of Sodapop; there's no one to keep me company here.

The machine hisses reminding me to take a breath.

XxX

I try calling again. Still no answer at the house.

I'm worried. It's the first time I've thought about leaving Cherry Hills.

XxX

We have dinner. I sit with my group, pick at cold chicken and rice. Clarence wolfs his down then leaves to play chess. Flora's quiet, I'm quiet. No one mentions Lester.

When we're finished, I go back to my room. I try to read but can't. I stare down the pack of crayons resting on my nightstand, working up the guts to write. I eye the picture frame, the still images of my brothers. Finally I settle on reading a Cherry Hills Pamphlet titled _You've Come to the Right Place_. Inside photos of happy patients being corralled by doctors fill the pages. I hold back a laugh.

It's early still, nearing six, when the door opens. It's Nurse Wilkes, carrying a tray that holds a plastic glass of water and a cupful of pills.

"It's not time yet."

"It's your additional medicine for the pneumonia," she says. "You still have to be in line tonight. Eight sharp. Word is they're playing Johnny Cash."

"Boy howdy, I can't miss that." Chuckling, Wilkes sets the tray on my nightstand, bumping the photo. I reach for the pills. I swallow.

"Ponyboy." Nurse Wilkes' voice is soft, sympathetic. "How are you doing? Are you very torn up?" She sits beside me on the bed, proper-like, hands folded.

A wave of sadness washes touches me briefly. I look up, grit my jaw. "I'll be okay."

Wilkes looks surprised. At what I'm not sure. "Of course you will," she says."But just know if you need to talk, I'm here. It was such a horrific thing and I can't imagine how you feel. Especially after losing so much. Have you tried calling your family?"

"Twice. They weren't home." My voice comes out strained.

She pats my knee. "Oh, dear, I am sorry. You know, Ponyboy, sometimes it's hard for the ones who love you when you're in a place like this. They don't know what to think or do." Wilkes smiles. "Now I am not saying your brothers feel this way. I just wanted to let you know they might have an explanation for their distance. You understand, honey?"

"Yeah. I understand." Dread thoughts begin to well. I've finally driven them away; they're done with me—

There's another tap on the door, both our heads swivel. Apple Face is in the doorway. "Visitor."

XxX

I walk into the room dazed. And when Two-Bit finally lets me go from the hug, he pulls me onto the couch next to him. "How are you doin, kid, huh? They treating you okay?"

"I'm good, Two-Bit, really…"

"You sure? You seem tired...strung out…something…"

"Sure I'm tired…it's all the pills they have me on."

"Pone…you got that same look on your face you had that day you were burning up at the bus stop. Spill it, kid."

Lowering my voice, I tell Two-Bit about Lester, finally finishing with the infamous pencil stab. Two-Bit's frowning, a weird intensity coming from him.

"Jesus rollerskating Christ," Two-Bit says, whistling loud and long. A nurse hushes him and he blows her a kiss. He turns back to me. "You know, kid, that's probably the first sign that you oughta get your ass outta here and back home. Quick. People stabbin themselves in the neck with friggin pencils just ain't right."

I laugh. "Look, man—"

"No, Ponyboy," Two-Bit says. "You're not like these people. You ain't…_troubled_. Mixed up, sure. But who isn't?"

"You sound like Sodapop."

"Yeah, well, I've been hanging out a lot, listening to him worry about you. Guess it's rubbing off."

"One week left."

Two-Bit cocks a brow. "We could break you outta here. Pull off _The Great Escape_."

"You ain't exactly Steve McQueen," I say, grinning. "More like…Charlie Chaplin."

"We could ransom Steve?"

"Yeah, but who would pay for him?"

Two-Bit howls, earning another glare from the nurse. As I watch Two-Bit laugh, I realized how much I needed this. The loneliness lifts. "Thanks for coming," I tell him. "Really, man."

"Hell, I've missed you, kid. It's quiet at your house. Real quiet." Two-Bit ruffles my hair. I blush, feeling eyes on me.

"Shoot, I'll be home soon."As I look at Two-Bit I realize I've treated him like shit. Put a lot of problems on his shoulders and when he tried to do right I ignored him. I remember Kathy and can't believe I haven't asked him about it. I slap his shoulder. Hard. He gives a yelp.

"How've you been? Did you ask Kathy yet?"

Two-Bit runs a thumb down a long sideburn, embarrassed. "No, uh…"

"Well, why not? You ain't having second thoughts are you?"

"I was uh, waiting 'til you got outta here." At my stare he mumbles, "I wanted you to be there, kid."

"Aw, shit, Two-Bit, I've been a lousy friend."

"No you ain't, you've just been a bit more preoccupied than usual. But hey—" Two-Bit stretches on the couch, sticking a hand into his pocket. He fumbles awkwardly and then brings out a box. "Check this out." He opens it and inside there's a silver ring with a small diamond.

"Two-Bit," I hiss, "you carry that around with you?"

"Kid, if I kept it at my place, Karen would blab or someone would pawn it. I have to be sneaky." He holds the box up to me. "So what do you think?"

"It's really great, Two-Bit. She'll love it."

There's a light slap on the back of my head. Stubs walks past, calling out, "Say yes, Ponyboy." Light laughter flitters across the room. My face heats up and Two-Bit's matches the color of his rusty sideburns.

"She better," he grunts, snapping the box shut and hastily putting the ring away. "Spent enough." Then he reaches out and punches my shoulder, his eyes serious. "Speaking of rings, if I hear you keep smoking I'm gonna ring your fucking neck."

"Yeah, get in line behind Darry and Soda." Suddenly, I start. "Hey, speaking of Darry, where is he? I've been calling the house the whole afternoon."

"Didn't anybody tell you?"

"Tell me? Tell me what?" Two-Bit's biting his lip and I grab his arm. "What's going on, man?"

"Darry, uh, he's staying at a motel up here."

"What?"

"Yeah, kid," Two-Bit laughs. "Your big brother's right across the street."

XxX

The evening goes fast. I line up for my pills, silently pondering Darry and his stubbornness. My older brother is still a mystery. Just when I think he's done with me he does something like this. Why I don't know.

I take all my pills and crawl into bed. I'm tired and numb.

As I reach out to turn out the lamp, lightning flashes, high in the sky, bringing the clouds closer. I close my eyes.

XxX

The next morning I go to breakfast. I tell myself I'll go back to my room afterwards and write down my observations, whether they're important or not.

The sky's dark when I go back to my room. Despite it being mid-morning it could pass for dusk. I gather my crayons and notepad and scribble my thoughts. I sit cross-legged on my bed, on the sturdy white comforter, and watch the storm roll in.

Finished and done, I tug the drawer of my nightstand out, ready to re-tape fresh notes to the underside of the dresser drawer. I stick a hand underneath and then withdraw quickly. Panicked.

I turn the nightstand over, the plastic battery-operated clock and lamp going topsy-turvy. My notes are gone. All gone.

XxX

I call Nick and tell him.

"_What_?" he hisses.

"You heard me. Someone took them."

"Oh, Jesus," Nick moans. "I knew it. We never should have played Hardy Boys."

"Shut up. That's not funny. Look, we can't tell Max."

"What?"

"We can't tell Max."

"No I heard you. I just – I guess – I mean that's your biggest worry here?"

"If he knew, he'd pull this whole thing and we're close, Nick. So close." I twist around, getting tangled in the phone cord, looking for eavesdropping ears. "We're gonna solve this," I whisper, feeling my heart pumping in my chest. I'm angry too. Someone violated my space, took what was mine.

"The notes are just notes. Nothing incriminating. Like you said, I'm just a curious kid. We're gonna get the story and we're gonna win."

Nick chuckles. "Shit, Curtis. You really are a goddamned reporter, aren't you?"

XxX

Despite riding high on adrenaline and pumped by the conversation with Nick, eventually it fades and I begin to panic again. Someone's suspect. Someone has my writings. Worse still, someone was watching, keeping tabs on my routine to know exactly where they were kept. It's an unnerving thought.

I turn my room inside out, looking for notes I may have misplaced, even though I know where I've been keeping them all along.

I have to move this along. Do some more digging and get out of here within the week. Not solving this will kill me. I feel linked to these people, their stories and pain. I have to get a look at their files. But how I'm going to do this is beyond me. I'll need a miracle.

Nurse Wilkes catches me as I'm overturning my mattress. We both freeze. "I, uh, lost something."

Wide-eyed, she doesn't say anything just takes me to my session with Dr. Please. She leaves me there. I'm ready for this, knowing I need to find some way to be alone in the office. It's risky, but I want to get a look at the files. Speed things up, get more details. I put my hand on the doorknob and turn.

Dr. Please isn't in his office but when I see the person sitting in the leather chair I nearly keel over. My jaw drops. "Darry?"

XxX

_Pardon typos. Hinton owns the Outsiders. _

_Yay – back to normal updates. I hope. _

_Please read and review – many thanks and always loved. _

_P.S. the title of this chapter I took from a song I kind of got inspired from. "Sometimes a Pony Gets Depressed" by the Silver Jews. It seemed fitting. _

_Thanks again._

_XO,  
Feisty_


	15. There Goes the Neighborhood

_Long chapter._

_Fair warning: Cliffhanger below? Maybe. If you want to call it that._

_SE HINTON owns The Outsiders._

There Goes the Neighborhood

XxX

Darry's sitting in the leather chair normally reserved for me, flipping through a brochure titled _Cherry Hills: Addiction Recovery Center_. He drops it when I enter, straightening his broad shoulders, eyes losing some of their hardness.

"Dar, what're you doing here?"

"Your doctor called me."

"For what?"

"He thought it would be a good idea if I were here for some of your sessions."

I groan inside, thinking of all the damage my brother could do. Not to mention the damage Please could bring up. I cross the room and sit in the chair next to him. "You should go, Darry. I'll just tell them you had to leave for work."

"I'm not leaving, Pony," Darry says, frowning. "I took the time off, I'll stay."

"Can we afford that?"

"Don't you—"

"Yeah, yeah, worry about it." I know the standard Darry response so well I could have a conversation with myself.

"Ponyboy." Darry says and he looks simultaneously sad and mad. "You're looking like hell."

I dip my head, trying to catch a glimpse of my reflection in the shiny metal pencil holder on Please's desk. Running a hand through my greasy hair, I see he's right. I sit up. "I think it's the general progression of things here, Dar."

"Not funny, Ponyboy." Darry slaps his palms on his jeans. "Tell me this, are you at least keepin' out of trouble?" He gives me a pointed look and I remember my stolen notes. I want to tell him but something tells me to wait. Don't sound the alarms yet.

"Ponyboy, so help me…" Darry growls when I'm silent.

"Yes, trouble I'm out of, but…" I decide to brief my brother. Fast. "Okay, okay, look, since you're stayin'…if Dr. Please says anything you think is uh, weird just go with it…I may have um, elaborated on some stuff…"

"What kind of stuff?"

"Just…stuff, Dar." Darry swears and before he can say anything more, the door swings open and Please saunters in, murmuring greetings.

XxX

We get the pleasantries out of the way. I can tell Darry doesn't like or fully trust Dr. Please. My brother keeps his arms crossed and his guard up.

"I thought I'd invite your brother here, Ponyboy, since he seems to come up often in our topics of conversation." I sink in my chair, watching Please with suspicion, wondering if he's the one who took my notes. If he knows. But his face gives nothing away, a calm mask.

"It was not my intention to spring this on you," Please continues. "It was a last minute idea, but I apologize for the surprise." He turns to Darry. "You seem hesitant, Darrel," Please says.

Darry looks like he's getting called on in high school; caught off guard. He bristles, clears his throat. "I'm uh, I'm not so sure about this therapy thing…"

"Do you object to being here?"

"I just want to get my brother home."

"You think he can be better helped there?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Tell me why you are way of therapy, Darrel."

Darry clenches and unclenches his hands, the muscles moving taught. "I don't want my brother getting ideas that aren't there."

"Outside influences?" Darry nods.

My eyes are a ping-pong ball, bouncing back and forth between Darry and Please's dialogue. Please is pushing him. This is going to go bad very fast. I don't know how Darry's doing it. Staying calm. Actually, I do know. He has the same look on his face when the social worker's came by for visits. Calm on the outside, fuming inside.

Please says, "Darrel, I understand your concern but our goal here is not to influence. It is to dig and get at the thoughts and feelings under the surface. In your brother's case, the reason he began using the pills." I sit forward, nervous. Darry's face is wan.

Please writes something on the notepad. Flips through my file, reading. "First, let's discuss how you two interact. Darrel, Ponyboy has mentioned your relationship hasn't been the best at times. Do you agree?"

The heat level in the room rises about 10 degrees. Darry turns to me.

Oh, boy.

"You told him that?"

"Darry…"

"Damn it, why don't you ever talk to me? I swear it's like pulling teeth with you, Ponyboy."

Temper rising, I say, "Oh yeah? Like you tell me things. How's the Motel 6?"

A tendon in Darry's jaw jumps. "What's this?" Please asks, the same neutral expression on his face.

"He checked into a motel up here," I tell him.

"Is that true?" When Darry gives a curt nod, Please asks, "Why is that?"

Darry's face contorts, I can see him thinking about the real reason and I pray, please God, Darry, keep your mouth shut. Finally he says, "I don't like leaving him up here alone."

I try again. "But Dar, that's a long time to commute to work. Go home. I'll be fine."

"That's not important, Ponyboy."

"Yeah, but—" I break into a cough.

Darry waits, reaching out to rub my back. "I want to make sure you come home."

"Well, we're certainly not planning to keep him," Please says brightly, unaware of Darry's real meaning. "But let's keep on track. Ponyboy, tell Darry how you feel about your relationship."

I throw the doctor a _thanks-a-lot_ look now that he's got us back on the subject that's pissed Darry off. He nods. "Go on. Say what you want."

"Darry," I begin and it comes out in one long breath. "."

Darry sighs and I can see him struggling to keep composed. "I thought we were doin' okay, kiddo."

"We were – we _are_. Listen—"

"I know livin' at the house ain't been easy but…"

"That's not what I meant, Dar. I mean – I said we _used_ to butt heads a lot. Not as much anymore."

"Let me make it clear, Darrel," Please says, "That Ponyboy is not blaming you—" I wince. "He is merely discussing latent issues that may have contributed to a much larger problem."

"So you're bringing up bullshit to give my brother a complex?" Darry turns to me. "Ponyboy, we can fix this, you and me. We don't need to be here to do this."

"Jesus, Darry…" I mutter at the same time that Dr. Please says, "Darrel, if I might add—"

"I'm not talking to you," Darry snaps, completely ignoring the doctor. He looks over my way. "I don't know why you just wouldn't talk to me about—"

"God damn it, Darry," I say, cutting him off. "_This_ is what I mean when I say you don't listen. You don't _hear_ me. I'm just telling you how I feel, you ain't gotta do anything. You don't gotta fix it. I have to."

"Oh yeah?" Darry says, voice rising to a yell, "if you had your way still be taking those drugs back at school and Soda and I'd be waiting for the day when we got a phone call that something god awful had happened to you."

"Oh c'mon, Darry, that's not fair," I yell back at him. "You never give me credit for anything…"

"If you think I'm leaving _that_ up to chance you got another thing comin'."

"I said I'm sorry, Darry, Jesus, what else do you want from me? I'm trying here." My brother's face is red, ready to erupt. I glance at Please. "This is such bullshit…"

"Bullshit, huh?" Darry says. "Well, if you really want to know what's bullshit it's you Ponyboy, sneaking around and taking those pills. Somebody's got to tell you how it is. Kiddo, you can barely handle yourself."

Darry may have well sliced me in the gut because his words cut. I open my mouth and it must show across my face that I'm about to let some choice words rip because Please jumps in, stunned from our argument.

"Let's take a break, shall we?" he says. "Let calm down and come back to this tomorrow."

XxX

Darry and I leave things like that.

He gives me the number to his motel before storming out, barely saying goodbye, while I retreat to my room, stung. The session was tough. And to make matters worse, Please has Darry and I scheduled for therapy every day for the last week I'm here. Whether the two of us like it or not.

XxX

After lunch, I make a phone call. Soda picks up at the DX. I can hear Steve hollering at someone in the background, the sound of machinery whirling. We make small talk; Soda asking how I am and I tell him I know that Darry's staying at a motel up here.

"Surprise," Soda drawls. "How'd you find out, smarty?"

"Two-Bit spilled the beans."

Soda chuckles. "Lord, Darry's gonna kill him."

"Soda, he oughta just go home. I'm really okay up here."

"Yeah, you keep saying that honey, but we ain't gonna believe you until you're back," Soda says. He sighs. "I miss you, kiddo. You seem farther away than you did in college."

"I know," I murmur, gripping the receiver tight. Flora passes by; she gives me a wave and then starts chewing on one end of her pigtails. It's pouring rain outside, the large windows giving me a good view of the blackening sky.

"Speaking of surprises," I say, watching Flora disappear around a corner. "Darry came to therapy today."

There's a long silence. "He did?"

"Yeah, Dr. Please asked him too."

"Why'd he do that?"

"Guess he thought it'd help or something. But I don't know what he was thinking." I give an awkward laugh. "It was kind of a mess."

"Hey, Pone—" Soda's voice sounds off. Stilted. "I got a customer here, I'll talk to you soon okay, kiddo?"

"Soda, wait—" He hangs up.

Concerned, I set the phone back on the receiver. Then, fumbling, I pull Darry's hastily scribbled hotel number out of the pocket of my jeans and pick up the phone. I punch in the numbers. The line's busy.

Outside, the wind picks up.

XxX

I find Please near the supply cabinet, wanting to sense him out. He's uncapping and capping bottles of pills, filling up the small white paper shot cups we swallow the pills from. He runs down the list of names on a clipboard, checking whose have been filled.

"Ponyboy," Please says, seeing me approach. His eyes crinkle as he smiles. "How do you feel about our session today?"

"Well for one, you could have told me you invited Darry." I shrug. "Kind of a cheap shot."

"As I said the idea happened upon me this morning. I thought it would be good for you."

"Yeah, well, I don't think Darry liked it too much."

"Something tells me your brother can take care of himself." Please removes his glasses, setting them on the counter. "And you? How about yourself?"

"I'm – I'm not sure yet." I get back to my point. "So…is this standard procedure?"

"What?"

"Do you always bring in the family members of your patients? Shake things up?" The question's pushing it but if Please is the one who took my notes he already knows so I might as well go for it. My chest is tight as I wait. Please seems surprised.

"Ponyboy, as I said before, everything in my files and my office is confidential. I can't discuss this with you, son."

A hand brushes my shoulder and I turn. Nurse Wilkes is behind me, holding out a hand. "Dr. Please, you shouldn't have to do that." She sidles around me. "Here, let me fill those."

"Beverly, it's quite alright," Please says. "But thank you." Please turns back to his task and Nurse Wilkes and I leave him be.

XxX

"Check mate."

"Damn." I frown at the chess board in front of me.

"Good game," Clarence says, scooping up his pieces.

"I just don't get this."

"You will." Stubs elbows me. "My turn. Scoot."

I stand up, Stubs sitting down in the metal folding chair. Clarence's gnarled fingers rearrange the brown and white chess pieces.

It's loud when it happens. Lightning illuminates the room, thunder cracking the sky. I jump, turning. The wind howls. Across the room, Flora runs to the window.

XxX

Buddy Holly calls us to Pill Line-Up."That'll Be the Day" blares from the speakers of the old radio. I get in line. Stubs sidles in behind me. To waste time, he dissects the finer points of chess. But the rules are boring and my attention drifts.

"Hey," I say. "Where's Marie?"

Stubs's dark eyes are serious. "The voices are talking to her again." He puts a finger on my temple, pressing lightly. "Right here."

"Marie hears voices?"

"It's why she's here, kid."

The line moves us forward. "Is she okay?"

"Oh, sure. Just getting a little extra special attention."

I wonder what's considered _extra special attention_ at Cherry Hills but decide not to ask. I move to the window and hold out my hand for the pill cup. Apple Face sets it softly in my right palm; I reach for a cup of water with my left. As I'm bringing the pills up to my mouth I stop.

"This isn't right." Apple Face frowns. I show her the pill cup. Instead of my usual color combo of three white and four yellow, there's an additional three red pills sitting in the cup. "Did my meds change?"

Her frown turns to confusion. And instead of telling me I'm wrong, just take the pills, she says, "Let me check, okay?" She retrieves the cup from my and. "I'll be right back."

When she returns, she's pale. She gives me back my pills, minus the red ones. "I'm sorry, Ponyboy," she says and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. "An additional few got added by mistake. Nice catch." She tries to laugh.

"Lucky me," I tell her, dry-swallowing the pills.

XxX

Please dished the pills out earlier. He gave me something I shouldn't be getting. I wonder what they would have done.

I'm sitting on the L-shaped couch in the rec room, using the last two hours before bed to think. I don't even know where to begin. Drawing my legs up, I go through the case in my head. This time I don't have a pencil to help me.

But I don't need one. It's clear I'm next. And that puzzles me.

XxX

Someone's calling my name; I glance up. Stubs and Flora are waving at me to come join them. They're putting a puzzle together, huddled over a coffee table in the opposite corner of the room. Stubs is puffing away on cigarettes, a halo of smoke floating around his head, and Flora's gnawing on cardboard.

Glory, I can't wait to get out of here.

I stand, going reluctantly. As I cross the room, lightning erupts outside. A bright fireball exploding out of the corner of my eye. I spin around and hurry to a far window, pressing a palm against the reflection of a burning tree. Outside, a large oak has been struck by lightning.

Voices begin to exclaim, people pointing and the room become chaos. The timbre of thunder sounds, loud and booming. Flora's high-pitched shriek begins. I back up, getting out of the mix of people. I'm halfway across the room when there's another crack. The smell of burnt rubber, electricity fills my nostrils.

Then another sound, an odd rushing, falling noise, and I'm knocked to the ground, Dr. Please throwing his body on top of mine. He shields me as the room explodes.

XxX

I'm deaf as the world rolls over. Please is on his knees in front of me, his mouth moving mute. "What?" I yell. He gestures, grips my shoulders, still talking. I shake my head, clearing it, and sound returns.

"—kay, Ponyboy? Are you hurt?"

I see the rec room and my eyes go wide. Rain's drenching the room. I wipe wet hair away from my face and squint in the dark. A section of the wall facing the courtyard is gone, a large tree smashed through its side. There's a small hole in the corner of the room that goes down three floors.

XxX

The electricity still isn't on when the cops arrive. They rope off the area around the hole and secure the room. They talk in soft official tones: the roads are out, electricity gone in most of Tulsa, winds busting trees, days to get someone to fix this; a real freak of a storm.

Nurses lead patients back to their rooms by candle and flashlight. The other doctor's take care of their wards, Please tending to us. The four of us sit in a circle on the floor, taking in the commotion. Flora keeps chewing her nails and Stubs swears at the ineptness of the cops. Clarence is silent and I miss Marie's calming influence. Nurse Wilkes fusses, piling me with blankets, reminding me about the pneumonia.

I watch all of this and worry. Worry about my brothers and friends. Worry about Cherry Hills.

XxX

A hand stretches down toward me. I look up and it's Dr. Please. I reach out and take it; he pulls me up, setting me straight on my two feet.

"You doing alright?" Here in the disorder of the storm, Please looks less like a doctor and more like a parent. In his forehead deep lines of worry are etched.

"Yeah," I say, biting my lip. "I'm fine. Look, thanks for—"

"You don't have to thank me," he says. "I'm just very glad you're okay, Ponyboy." He squeezes my shoulder. "You go get some sleep, we'll talk tomorrow." He walks off, slumping wearily.

I stand very still.

XxX

Nurse Wilkes takes me back to my room. The glow of the candle bouncing in front of her face. She's talking but I barely hear. Everything's in slow motion, reversed. My mind goes choppy, thinking—

If Please really was the one why didn't he just let me get creamed by the tree? Take me out the easy way. Maybe it's not Please…but if it's not Please, who? Maybe it's not anyone. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe…maybe…

"I said, we're here, Ponyboy."

I blink. Wilkes is stopped in front of my room, turning the knob and slinging the door open. I start coughing and Wilkes _tsks_. She puts a palm on my forehead. "You poor dear. You're either always sick or in the mix of things."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't you worry. You know, I met your brother today. The big one." I smile and she continues. "He is so eager to help; I only hope he doesn't get discouraged."

"Why would he get discouraged?"

"Dear me. Forget I said anything."

"No…what happened?"

"Only that…well, Dr. Please said he had him scheduled for the last week you're here. That's an intensive therapy, Ponyboy. It can be hard on the families. The parents espec—" Wilkes covers her mouth. "I am so sorry."

Hurt, I let Wilkes usher me inside. "Go on and get settled." Her voice is soft. She hands me a flashlight. "The electricity should be back on in the morning."

XxX

My parents.

It's late, past midnight and I'm lying in bed thinking about my parents. My father with his stern features, so much like Darry. My mother, always happy like Soda. Funny how I haven't thought about them since this all started. Like I've been trying to ignore them, what they'd think…Please was right. I do disconnect.

The familiar ache, the sadness wells inside, deep down. I'm treading water. Just when I break the surface, something dark is pulling me back down no matter how hard I paddle.

I kick the covers off and sit up.

XxX

"Whoa, where're you off to?" An orderly puts his hand out, stopping me in my tracks. "Lights out, kid."

"My, uh, toilet is clogged." I lie, giving a sheepish grin."Thought I'd use the one down the hall."

The orderly eyes the door to my room, and then deciding he doesn't want to deal with an overflowing toilet tonight buys it. "Go on. Be quick." I skirt off down the hall. I pass the bathroom and turn the corner, heart pounding in my chest.

XxX

She lets me in. Marie is in a robe. She looks peaceful, her face white and freshly washed. Her hair, slightly frizzy, stands on end. "Ponyboy, it's past midnight."

"I know and I'm sorry. I just couldn't sleep and I needed someone to talk to. I didn't know where else to go."

Marie sits in the middle of her bed, patting the comforter.

XxX

"They shocked you?" I stare at her burnt palms; the middle of each one is ashy. "Marie, doesn't that hurt?"

"It's not so bad," she says. "Besides, it quiets the souls in my head."

"The voices."

"The voices. It's like people in my head. But they're all different, all talking at once."

"Do you ever listen?"

She smiles. "Sometimes. Sometimes they're right and sometimes they're scary." Marie wraps an arm around me and gives me a hug. "Now tell me what's wrong."

"I think – I thought I was doing okay but then – I don't know. It's too much I can't keep up with it and sometimes all I want to do is just run and never come back and that even scares me because—"

Marie shushes me. Holds my shaky hands. "I talked to Stubs earlier and he mentioned how good you were doing. You're his favorite." She gives me a wink. "So what keeps getting' to you, honey? Why're you so sad?"

"I have no idea," I say, feeling out my thoughts, rambling along. "I'm not like this all the time…everyone's trying so hard to help and at first I think it's working…that I'm doing everything right but then it all rushes back at once. For no reason even. I just don't get it. Like tonight, I was just talking with Nurse Wilkes earlier and—"

Every ounce of blood drains from my face.

XxX

_Yowza. Thank you, thank you for the reviews for Chp 14. Happy here. _

_Pardon typos please. I caught one earlier but now I can't find it. *sigh*_

_Please review if you shall be so kind. _

_Oh yes – someone asked about the disorder that Flora has – she has Pica. _

_Thanks again._

_XO,  
Feisty_


	16. Pusher

_SE HINTON owns The Outsiders._

Pusher

XxX

As I pass by the rec room the next morning, I pause and watch the renovation that's already begun. Cherry Hills moves fast. Construction workers hammer and pound. The area fenced off with a rope and plastic tarp. The rec room's officially closed.

Still, I venture forward, ducking under blockade tape, ignoring the shouted warnings of the workers. I stand by the edge of the deep hole. I peer down. Three floors are smashed, at the bottom is a deep murky pool filled with brown water. It's still raining and despite best efforts to contain it, the rain's still flowing in, trickling into the hole.

"Ponyboy!" A roar from behind me, hands on my shoulders and then just as I'm tipping forward toward the blackness I'm pulled back.

I wheel around. It's Stubs, grinning. "God damn it," I punch his arm.

"Gotcha."

"You scared the shit outta me." I start coughing and can't stop.

Stubs takes a step forward and tugs me back. "Hey kid, I'm sorry. I was just joking."

I hold up my hands, step around Stubs. "It's okay, man."

He shoves me in front of him. "What're you doin' anyway? There's nothin' for you down there."

XxX

I wolf down breakfast, getting a kind smile from Marie. She waves at me to come over and join the table she's sharing with Stubs. Instead, I smile thinly and mouth _no thanks_. She nods, understanding.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the metal cafeteria tray. I wince; the dark circles betraying my sleepless night. After my initial shock last night, I had managed to get out of her room and back to mine before I started to wig out.

Before I say anything I have to be sure. Really sure.

I think it's Wilkes.

And it makes sense; next to Dr. Please she was the nurse to everyone in my group. Deep down I've got the strongest hunch she did it. She killed them. All of them.

I just don't know why.

XxX

The line to the payphone's a mile long. Electricity's been restored but the phone lines haven't been so lucky. Up ahead, the patient currently on the phone swears and then hangs up. He tries again.

I hope everything's alright at home. After talking with Soda yesterday, I got the feeling he wasn't too happy with Darry about the whole therapy-thing. And if I know my brother, he's pissed he was left out of the loop.

Another curse. I stand on tiptoes, glancing up the line to see the same guy trying again. "C'mon man," I murmur, before turning on my heel to walk off.

It's already Friday. Time's creeping up on me.

XxX

I slow my stride, coming across Flora and Nurse Wilkes in the hall. They're having some sort of hushed conversation; Flora calmly nodding and Wilkes holds out her hand, gesturing. With a shrug, Flora pulls balls of rubber bands out of her pockets, turning them over to the Nurse. Wilkes shakes her head, her hair flowing, showing the curve of her neck and it's instant: Flora's face clouds with anger.

When Wilkes leaves I approach.

"What's wrong, Flora?" She doesn't say anything. "Are you upset she took your rubber bands?"

"No. I have more. Nurse had a necklace on." I barely remember anything. "It was gold," Flora continues. "A heart. It was Joanie's."

"Has she ever worn it before?"

"No, I just seen it today." With a flourish Flora pulls out a pack of gum and puts the entire stick – paper wrapper and gum – into her mouth. She offers me a piece and I wave it away. "I think she stole it," Flora says, smacking a bubble.

XxX

"Ponyboy." Apple Face is beckoning me over to the desk. She stands stoic, hair in a tight bun like always.

"Any luck with the phones?" I ask, resting my elbows on the counter.

"Not yet," she says. "The generator's giving us some trouble." She sighs. "Now take your meds." Handing me the small cup, she laughs dryly as I inspect the pills. "It's your pneumonia medication."

"Just checking." I take a swig of water. "Say," I say before I go. "What were those red pills yesterday?"

"Don't worry about that," Apple Face says, shooing me off. But from the frightened look on her face apparently I need to.

XxX

Back in my room I spread loose leaf papers over the floor. I take off my shoes and pace. I think hard. I take a sip of water from the pitcher on the nightstand. I do what Colin and Max taught me; trust your gut and write it down.

Kneeling, I make a list on two pieces of paper. On one, List A, I scratch out a kind of grid with purple crayon. Name of the victim in one box, a blank space in the other. Paul MacBrayer, Doug St. John, Luke Cooper, Joanie Banks, Daniel Keller and Jamie Coleman.

On the other, List B, I write: Stubs, Marie, Clarence, Flora and Lester. I don't add my name yet.

Then in each box next to a name I scribble a background. Any and all facts. I write what I know about each one, what I've read in articles, what info Nick's fed me, and what I know from talking to my fellow patients.

When I'm done, I sit back and evaluate.

List A has the new or newer patients. List A also has people who've been billed as "depressed" or, as Stubs had said, had "lost hope near the end."

List A also has the patients who were nearing their release date. Everyone on List B is staying put. Stubs has been here for years, Marie too. After a second, I add my name to List A and drop the crayon.

I reread all the notes once more, rip them into tiny chunks and then flush them down the toilet.

I sit back on the ground and make another list.

XxX

She's there whenever I'm in trouble or need help. The majority of our interactions have involved some sort of motherly duty. Checking on me in the infirmary, walking me to sessions, saving me from Lester, giving me my meds…

From appearances, Nurse Wilkes is sweet, matronly. But there were also her covert nudges, the ones pushing me toward fear and doubt. Ones I didn't see at the time; the kind that if kept at a steady pace would be enough to make an already fragile mind even weaker. But in hindsight, her tactics seem obvious.

I remember her offer to take over filling up Dr. Please's medications, my unintentional comment that I just couldn't do it anymore. She had jumped, dropped the clipboard. How she brought up my Darry's lack of concern, my parents and then pretended to be sorry…

My hands are shaking so hard I set the paper down at stare at it. I tell myself I'm wrong, I need more information to even come to some sort of sane conclusion. Because to think that a Nurse, my nurse, _any nurse_, has killed six people on purpose is pretty mind-blowing.

Hell, I thought this stuff only happened in the movies.

XxX

A few hours later I get my answer. I'm on the couch in the common area, which is now doubling for the rec room until it's fixed. In a corner waterlogged puzzles and chessboards sit, waiting to dry up. It's humid as hell and as I wipe sweat from my face I'm realizing I'm tired; so-honest-to-god-tired I'm not thinking straight.

I'm wrong about Wilkes, I decide. Cherry Hills is making me crazier than I already I am. I can't get a clear look at the picture. I pick up my book, stare through it and start coughing. I end up hacking into my fist when there's a—

"Are you okay, Ponyboy?"

My eyes shoot open. I squirm. The book slides off my lap and hits the floor. Nurse Wilkes is standing above me.

"I-I guess so."

She follows my eyes as they move behind her. Wilkes sighs. "I don't know if visitors are able to get up here today. All the roads are out."

"What about therapy?"

"Dr. Please may be canceling," she says. "I'll make sure to check for you though."

I feel her eyes on me, waiting, expectant. I flop back against the couch. "Just as well. Darry probably doesn't want to see me anyway."

I'm ready. I almost miss it but her eyes come alive. "Oh no," Nurse Wilkes soothes. "I am sure he does." Moving around the back of the couch, she sits beside me on a cushion. She pats my knee. My stomach recoils.

"Everyone I know leaves," I say, trying to sound pitiful. And even though it's not exactly true, it's true enough to still hurt.

"Losing friends must be very tough."

I nod. My face is on fire. Wilkes is sitting so close; close enough that I want to jump out of my skin. She keeps patting my knee, and transfixed, I stare at her rhythmic fingers. "I just hope you know Johnny and Dallas don't blame you. They wouldn't want you to feel that way because of them. All those dark thoughts you've been having. Drowning is such an awful way to go."

"I know I shouldn't feel like that but—" I freeze. "Wait—what'd you say?" I'm so caught up in my act I nearly miss her slip-up.

"Your friends," Wilkes says. "They'd never blame you." She checks the gold watch on her thin wrist. "Oh my, I have to go." She pats my knee on last time. "You can talk to me, Ponyboy. I'll listen. I'll try to help."

She walks away and I'm shaking. The only person I've mentioned Johnny and Dal to has been Dr. Please. The only person I've told about my supposedly suicidal dream.

It's her. She read my files.

XxX

Skipping lunch, I rush back to my room to change before therapy. Unable to stop sweating, I chalk it up to the pneumonia combined with my withdrawals from the pills.

Hot, I pour myself a large cupful of water from the pitcher. I down it in minutes.

XxX

I have a newfound respect for Please now that I know he isn't a cold-blooded killer. I'm embarrassed I was wrong and judgmental but decide to chalk it up to immature reporter instinct. Hell, I'll learn. Please's office now feels like a safe escape. And despite being a bit off-putting, he's honest and he wants to help me.

Please asks how I'm feeling. "Exhausted," I tell him.

"Physical or emotional?"

"Both."

He chuckles. "That usually happens as your time here winds down. You know, Ponyboy…" I glance toward the door. Darry still hasn't shown up.

"Try not to worry," Please says, reading my mind. "The road's are still closed all over town. It's possible he might not be able to make it today."

If we left things like we did the other day and something happened— I bite my lip. Anxious. Darry's never late.

"Ponyboy," Please says, "As I was saying, I just wanted to let you know I am impressed with your progress." I glance his way. He nods. "I can see you want to make a change."

We talk for another half hour, the conversation running the gamut from Darry's reaction in the last session to my feelings on quitting smoking. "Tomorrow," Please says, checking his watch and closing my file, "We'll talk about why you started taking the pills."

The edge of my mouth quirks. "Guess I better come up with a good story then."

Please utters a soft chuckle. "Have a good evening, Ponyboy."

"You too." I cross the room, hand on the door knob and as soon as I pull it open Darry's standing there, fist outstretched, about to knock. He's soaked to the bone, his normally slick-backed hair, lank and dripping with rain.

Before I can get a word out he's hugging me.

XxX

Another patient is scheduled so Please lets Darry and I have unorthodox visiting hours. He lets us talk in the cafeteria. Darry squeezes his frame onto the bench and I sit across from him. "So you're okay?" I ask, eager to get the story, eager to make sure.

"I'm fine, kiddo" Darry says. "I tried like hell to get through on the damn phones but they were all down. I saw what the tree did to the side of the building. Is that secure?"

"Why? You wanna build a roof?"

Darry's not laughing. "Was anyone hurt? Are you okay?"

I decide to tell him. I hold my thumb and index finger about an inch apart. "This close, Dar."

"What was?"

"The tree and me."

"Jesus, Ponyboy, don't tell me that."

"Dr. Please knocked me out of the way," I say. "So give him a break tomorrow, will ya?"

Pale, Darry blinks and nods. His face goes soft. "Sure, kiddo. Sure, I will." Then Darry gives me a quizzical look. I'm fanning myself with my right hand. "Pone…?"

"It's hot," I say. "Don't you think it's hot in here?" He keeps staring at me. My stomach swirls. The lump in my throat growing bigger. "Darry – about yesterday—"

"Ponyboy," Darry says, "I know you're sorry but I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have gone off like I did. Tomorrow I'll—Ponyboy?" I wipe wetness away from my face. Darry's peering at me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing…I just…" I let out a sigh. "I just want to come home. I'm really tired." I clear my throat. "So is everything in Tulsa okay? How's Soda? Last I talked to him…"

Still watching me closely, Darry's mouth moves into a straight line. "Yeah, I figured." He shrugs. "You know Sodapop. He's ticked off he couldn't be there."

"And you didn't tell him?"

"And I didn't tell him."

"He would hate it," I say and Darry chuckles. "All that talking and no action."

"Yeah, that sounds like Sodapop."

"How's Liz?"

Darry groans. "Ponyboy, stop trying to fix everything. Just focus on yourself, kiddo."

I roll my eyes. "You're one to talk."

Darry's quiet. Then—"You know you got three days left…"

"Yeah, I got it, Dar."

"I hope to hell you do, Ponyboy," Darry says, his voice a hissing whisper. "Because you're coming home whether you've solved it or not."

"I'll solve it," I tell him. "I think I know who—" A soft murmur floats across the room, Apple Face telling us our visit is over. Darry looks at me like he wants to know more but with Apple Face looming it's not the time so he says nothing.

We stand. I don't want him to go.

"You okay? You got it?" Darry asks me as I stumble exiting the cafeteria. He grips my elbow tight. I shake my head, clearing my blurry vision. I tell him I skipped lunch but I don't think that's it.

XxX

The walls of the hall are distorted. Bowed and swayed like those fun house mirrors. Picking up my pace, I run, my sneakers clomping across the linoleum. "No running in the halls," an orderly shouts.

Yeah, screw you too, buddy, I think, ignoring him.

I reach my room, throwing the door open and then shut. I stick the back of the chair underneath the doorknob, bolstering it closed.

I scan my bedroom, instantly knowing what I'm looking for. Only one thing has changed since yesterday. I grab the water pitcher, rush to the sink and dump the liquid out. I stick my hand into the empty plastic pitcher. Swipe a finger across the inside of its bottom. I bring it up to my face; it's covered in a gritty white residue. I wipe it on my jeans, erasing the evidence just before I hit the floor.

XxX

I come to. I'm in my bed. The washcloth on my face falls onto my lap. "Oh man," I drawl, pressing a fist against my forehead. My face throbs. A shadow moves in the room. "Nurse Wilkes?"

I'm relieved when Apple Face comes into view. "Open," she commands, sticking a thermometer in my mouth. "You passed out."

"Did you find me?"

"Yes. Barricaded behind your door," she huffs. "You missed pill line-up." She gives me another dose of pills and takes the thermometer from my mouth. I dry-swallow them.

When she leaves, I slide out of bed. Still too dizzy to walk, I crawl to the bathroom and make myself puke up the meds. I'm not taking any more chances.

XxX

Saturday morning comes. I can't even move. I don't even want to. I'm so tired, my body racked as if by 30 tons of bricks. I feel doped. I shut my eyes. I wonder if this is how she broke them; the unknowing, trusting patients.

Bright light fills the room. I'm sweating bullets, vision hazy, but damn if I'm giving up. No way. No more. I'm not letting her drug me and ruin my chances of solving this case. The chances of healing myself. I'm not losing everything because of her.

I'll play her game. I'll win it.

XxX

Careful now, I drink water out of the tap. At breakfast I eat a piece of toast.

I go to the infirmary. But not for myself.

XxX

The room's stark white, something out of a dream. Lester's in the hospital bed, his neck and waist propped high, a bandage wrapped around his throat. Seeing me approach his beady eyes fill with alertness. Uncomfortable, I sit in the chair next to him. His hands scrabble for a notepad next to his bed. In blue crayon he writes, _Hello_.

I guess we both learned our lesson with the pencil.

"Hi, Lester. How are you doing?"

The crayon scratches. _OK.U?_ His handwriting is juvenile, block letters.

"I'm good."

_You are only one who's come._

"To see you?"When he nods I bite my lip."I'm sorry, Lester."

_You're a nice boy._

Leaning forward I say, "Lester, I want to ask you a question. You think you can help me?" He's nodding earnestly now, so eager, he reminds me of a child. And I find myself talking to him like he's one too.

"It's kind of private and you don't have to answer but I thought I'd check with you..." Another nod. "Ok, um…well, do you remember—well I'm sure you remember…but why did you—" I motion to my throat – "Do it?"

_Sad._

"Yeah. I'm sad too." Lester still gives me the creeps but I feel sorry for him. If Cherry Hills can't help him, who will? What hope does he have?

_You are?_

"Sure I am. I miss my family and just want to go home. Why are you sad?"

_I scared._

"Scared? Why?"

_I'm in the way._

My eyes narrow. "Who's scaring you? Did someone say something?" Lester sets the notepad aside and looks off to the left. Shifting in my chair, I follow his gaze, the closed infirmary doors in the distance. He doesn't want to talk. His mouth is mashed in a thin line.

"I'm sorry if no one listened to you, Lester. I know how it feels. But you can talk to me. I'll listen. I'll help you."

Lester's beady black eyes cloud. He makes a garbled muffled sound. He scribbles, bringing the notepad close to his chest. I wait; wipe sweaty palms on my jeans. When he's done, he holds up a single word, so perfect I can't help but smile.

_WILKES._

XxX

_Thank you for the reviews for Chp 15. Please review again if you shall be so kind. _

_Pardon typos please. _

_This story is winding down…a few more chapters to go._

_Thanks again._

_XO,  
Feisty_


	17. Lucky You Lucky, Lucky Me

_SE HINTON owns The Outsiders._

Lucky You (Lucky, Lucky Me)

XxX

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," I murmur under my breath as I wait for the phone to connect.

Nick answers. With garbled words, I run on for damn near 15 minutes and when I finish, when I take a breath and pause there's nothing. "Hello?" I ask the receiver, nearly shaking it.

"I'm here."

"Nick."

"I hate to admit it, Curtis but I'm…I'm kind of freaked out right now."

"Shit, you're telling me."

"I mean the story's actually _real_."

I laugh and he swears at the same time. After promising to meet me up at Cherry Hills in the next 30 minutes, in time for morning visiting hours, Nick hangs up. He warns me to be careful.

XxX

"In a hurry, kid?"

"What?"

"Where'd you get that nasty shiner?"

Spinning on my heel, I turn to eye Stubs. "What?" Stubs touches his cheekbone. Mirroring him, I touch my own, feeling the soreness.

"I fell."

"Real original."

"Ain't nothing original about the truth," I tell him before walking fast to the common area.

XxX

She descends like a vulture.

"Anything the matter, Ponyboy?"

"No ma'am."

"Are you sure? You barely ate any breakfast." Wilkes moves close to me. I'm sitting in the corner of the common room, waiting for Nick to get his ass here.

"I'm not hungry." I keep my eyes at a distance, staring into space, wanting Wilkes to think that whatever it is she's doing, it's working. I'm probably not fooling anyone but it's the easiest way to lay low. I still don't know if she took my notes so I'll go along with it for now.

I force myself to speak slow, monotonous. "Sometimes I don't even know why I'm here. Why I bother."

"A lot of people in here who feel like you do have tried to take their own lives." She tsks. "It's such a shame. Do you ever feel that way?" Sitting down next to me, Nurse Wilkes dips her head, the faintest smile crossing her face.

My eyes widen. Oh, holy shit, she likes it. She gets off.

I speak, numb. "I do. There'd be no more pain."

"And you're in so much pain, aren't you, Ponyboy?"

"I just wish it would stop."

"Poor child," Wilkes soothes. "Life has been so unkind to you." I fight a wince as she reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "It will all work out."

"I hope so. I can't go back."

There's the squeak of the couch as Wilkes stands. "You'll be okay," she almost whispers.

I sit zombie-like until she's out of the room and then I smear my face in my hands; she gives me the heebie-jeebies. "Oh, Jesus Christ," I murmur into my palms.

XxX

"Glory, you fly a jet up here?" I ask Nick, sitting down. After leaving the common room less than five minutes ago, thinking he wasn't going to show, I had been called back, the voice floating on the intercom: _Ponyboy Curtis, Visitor_.

"Good timing, huh?" Nick folds his hands together. "What happened to your face?"

Leaning forward, lowering my voice I tell him what's been happening in detail and he goes white. "She drugged you? Sonofabitch, Curtis, you didn't exactly tell me you were next in line. And you're not exactly supposed to be _baiting_ her."

"Ok, look Nick, I've been thinkin…"

"Shit, I'm afraid to ask."

"What if I got some evidence or something…I mean, maybe I could—"

"No, no, no, no, no, no," Nick says. "You don't try to _solve_ this case, Ponyboy."

"But I—"

"We're just supposed to get the facts and get out. We're not the cops. We ain't arresting anybody." Nick sits back in his chair, eyeing the empty room. "Listen, we have more than enough information to run the story as is."

"We just don't have a confession."

"Jesus, get off that will ya? 'Sides what are you worrying? You're gonna get a byline."

"I don't care about the stupid byline," I snap. "I can't leave it like this. Nick, I'm outta here in two days if nothing gets solved—"

"That's not our problem. We're journalists; circumstantial evidence works for us." He cracks a smile. "Unlike lawyers."

I roll my eyes, feeling stuck. To do all this and if nothing comes of it? To leave Stubs and Marie and Flora here...

I shake my head.

"I'm serious, Curtis," Nick says. "Don't do a damn thing."

XxX

Nick has a valid argument but I decide I'm going to use my time wisely.

XxX

"Flora."

She raises her face from the drinking fountain, the water stopping its flow. "Yes, Ponyboy."

"I need a favor."

"Yes?

I trust her. "Can you maybe distract the nurses? For like ten minutes?" I glance at the Nurses Station down the hall. There're three of them: Wilkes, Apple Face and a male orderly.

Her eyes light up. "Oh sure! Stubs and I played this game one time before. He was bored and thought we could use a laugh." Flora snickers.

I'm already moving away from her. "You think you can give me ten minutes?"

"Of course," she says, indignant. "I gave Stubs twice that. Boy, oh, boy, Dr. Please sure was mad when they caught him."

Great. I freeze. Turn back. "And what happened when they caught him?"

"He got the box."

XxX

The commotion has begun. Flora's dancing around and twirling in the hall. She has a roll of toilet paper in her hand and is streaming it into the air. Chuckling, the three stationed at the front desk move off into the hallway.

Quickly, I dart out, cross behind the desk and then slink into the office unnoticed. I shut the door, not letting it click. Flora's constant singing in the hallway is my one reassurance that all is okay for now. It's stupid taking this risk; getting thrown in the box would cost me all the time I have left at Cherry Hills but I have to do it. I have to know I'm right.

I eye the big brown desk with its folders and picture frames. A piggy bank and a vase of flowers nestled on the edge. Nurse Wilkes is head nurse, it has to be hers. Then I see the nameplate and roll my eyes. _Beverly Wilkes_. Genius, Ponyboy.

I rip the drawers open, pawing through them. The office is so dusty, flecks moving in the dim air and I struggle to hold back a cough. Rifling papers and files I find nothing. I pull another drawer out and—

Yelling in the hall now. My head darts up. "Shit," I hiss as there's a loud screeching, like metal being dragged across the linoleum floors. I slam the drawer shut and stand too quickly. I knock the desk and the piggy banks rolls off. I squeeze my eyes shut waiting for it to shatter when there's nothing.

I pick it up. It's plastic. It's light. It's empty.

Turning it over in my palms there's a hole in the bottom with a black plug. Uncorking it, I stick a finger inside and fish. I pull out a rolled up photo. Jamie Coleman and Nurse Wilkes. They're outside; the banner in the background says _Cherry Hills Family Day_.

Something shiny and metallic drops into my palm. A pair of dog tags. The name on it is Doug St. James. The next thing: A lighter with _Luke Cooper_ engraved across its shiny front. Astonished, I stuff everything back inside, plug it up and replace the piggy bank, making sure the dust marks align.

I open the door and scoot out.

XxX

Flora's getting dragged across the floor. She's holding onto a rickety metal couch for dear life while the male orderly tugs at her legs, trying to get her to let go. Wilkes and Apple Face stand around talking sweet to her. The legs of the couch are making an awful screeching sound.

She's repeating the ABC's backwards. "ZYXWVUTSRQ…" Her head droops down her chest and seeing me she immediately stops her flailing and goes limp. Surprised, the orderly drops her. Flora hops up, waves and then lopes down the hall, toilet paper wrapped around her head like a turban.

I bite my lip and thank god for small favors. Then I get the hell out of there.

XxX

Darry calls. He has to work a double and can't make it back in time for therapy. He sounds upset.

XxX

Later that night, I go to pill line-up. I swallow the pills dryly and go to my room. I puke them up, feeling stronger. I stay in my room for the rest of the night. Two days left. I tentatively pack my bags, a funny feeling in my stomach.

XxX

I do the same thing on Sunday morning, upchuck the pills. I know I shouldn't but I can't take the chance. I'll start the pneumonia meds as soon as I get back home; the rest I'm done with. I've never felt so relieved in my life.

And later when I'm heading down the hallway for the cafeteria, Stubs stops me. He whispers. "You off the meds, kid?"

"What?"

"The meds."

I frown and then smile. "How'd you know?"

He smirks. "Hell, I've been here three years, Ponyboy. I know when someone's seeing the light." He slaps my back. "You're lookin' looser, kid."

XxX

"Did you hear about Lester?" Flora asks during breakfast.

Marie asks, "What happened, dear?"

It's as if a switch gets shut down inside of me. I stop breathing; waiting, expecting the worst. My leg starts its bounce.

"He's gone."

I near topple Marie's cup of coffee. She reaches out to steady it as I say, "What? I just saw him yesterday. He was fine, he was—"

"He ain't dead, Ponyboy." Flora stares at me calmly. "He got discharged. Up north. He went to Granville in Kansas City." Her lip quivers. "It's a good thing."

"Yes, it is." Marie pats Flora's hand. "Are you ready, Ponyboy?"

"For what?"

"Ready to go? You leave soon don't you?"

"Well, yeah…."

"We'll miss you," Marie says. "You've been a good thing here."

"Will you come visit us?" Flora asks, tearing paper napkin into small pieces. She stacks them into a small pile in one palm, raises it to her mouth and then blows. They rain over me like confetti.

XxX

A soft murmur of words reaches my ears. Darry and Please. Walking inside, conversation halts abruptly. Darry half-stands, alarmed. "Ponyboy, what—"

I hold a hand up, crossing the room. "I fell." Darry looks murderous, watching me as I sit down. "It's nothing. Okay, Dar? Just leave it alone."

Turning away, Darry doesn't say anything. Please clears his throat, ready to begin.

XxX

We're in the middle of a discussion; everything going smoothly, Darry managing to keep his temper in check when Dr. Please finally asks the $1,000 question. "Ponyboy, tell me why you started taking the pills?"

The room goes still. Darry isn't looking at me but I can feel his pull, his immediacy. I drop my head; all of a sudden the carpet's interesting.

"I uh, guess at first I got offered them…and then I thought I needed them…" I wipe sweaty palms on the knees of my jeans, not realizing how nervous I am discussing this in front of my brother.

"Continue," Please says.

"What?"

"That's not good enough. It's not the root of the problem."

"But what _root_?" I protest. "I just took them and—"

"No. You just don't take something because. You have to dig deep and ask yourself _why_. What was it really about? What did the pills _really_ mean?"

"What if I don't know?"

"You know." Please says. "Stop putting this off. It's an avoidance that will stay with you if we can't fix it." He sighs. "Ponyboy, if you can't be honest I can't help you. I'll have to ask Darrel to leave if you're unwilling to talk when he's here."

Beside me I can feel Darry shift, anxious. I hold Please's gaze.

"No, I-I don't—"

"No one here will judge you, Ponyboy."

"That's not what I'm worried about…"

Please knows the card to play. "Ponyboy, if you hate yourself there're other ways to die a slow death. Hurt yourself. Others. Much easier ways…"

"Now just a goddamn minute," Darry says. "Why don't you lay the hell off him and—"

"No," I say, "He's right." Darry goes quiet, I squeeze my eyes shut, gather my voice and say, "I wanted to be better. I wanted to forget."

Please's voice: "Why did you feel like this?"

I open my eyes. Darry's staring at me. "It was like…I wanted to be in a different world. I had to compete. I wanted to be better. Smarter…"

Darry looks pained. "Oh, kiddo, you know—"

"Darrel, please," Please says. "Let him talk."

"It was fun at first, doing something…else. It was nice not to care. To get a rush and forget…but then after I started I was in it and I couldn't stop. And when I did try to stop I felt even crazier than before." I exhale and sit frozen. Head bowed. "I was an idiot. It didn't solve anything. I guess…I thought I could do it on my own."

Silent scribbling comes from Please and then he says, "Darrel, having heard this, is there anything you'd like to say to your brother?"

I'm expecting Darry to shake his head no, mumble a one-word answer when he chokes out, "Pony, I had no idea. I'm so sorry, kiddo." I feel scared and unsure as Darry examines his hands. They're shaking.

"Darrel, do you feel that you've failed to help your brother?" Please asks.

"Yeah." He nods, still not looking up.

"Darry," I say, "I couldn't do it at home. It wasn't your fault. You gotta believe that."

"I tried," he says, finally looking at me. "I tried so goddamn hard to help you."

"But you did," I say it soft, sitting and looking up at the ceiling. I blink hard, unsure what to say to my brother.

After a long silence, Please says, "Ponyboy, I want to bring up something we've never talked about before." Darry glances sharply at Please. "We've talked at length about your friends and your brothers but what about—"

Darry's shaking his head. "Don't, don't—"

"Your parents, Ponyboy," Please finishes, dismissing Darry's warning. "Have you considered how'd they react to this?"

I pale; images going fuzzy. "I—I haven't…I didn't…" Darry has the oddest look on his face as he watches me flounder. "I tried not to think about them," I finally whisper.

"I see," Please says. "And now? What do you think they'd say?"

The build-up is too much. The actuality of the last six months crashing down. And when I really think about it, about them, I know what they'd say. "My parents would be so ashamed of me." I bring my hands up to my face.

Darry scoots close. Wraps his arm around my neck, bringing me close. His voice cracks. "You're a good kid, Ponyboy."

I just cry and cry.

XxX

The session's over. Please lets us have a moment together, leaving the room quietly. "You okay?" Darry asks. He looks at his hands. Makes a fist.

"Yeah, are you?"

My brother seems shell-shocked but he nods. I don't think either of us expected what had just gone down in therapy. Dr. Please ripped the band-aid off but we're still standing. It says a lot; I think I'm even more proud of Darry than myself. It couldn't have been easy for him.

"Thanks, Darry."

"For what?"

"For comin' here and talking. That's all."

"Pone…" Darry hesitates. "No matter what you think, mom and dad wouldn't be ashamed of you. None of us are." I give him a smile. He reaches out and gently touches my bruised cheek, turning it to him for a better view. "Now about this…" His voice gets hard.

I duck my head.

"Ponyboy…" Darry warns.

I decide to be honest. Kind of. "What would you say if I told you I know who's been killing the patients?"

He gawks at me. Then: "I'd say I'm checking you out of here now."

"First of all, you can't. Second of all…I know who's been killing the patients."

"God damn it, Ponyboy. I told you to be careful—"

"I _am_ being careful."

"Bullshit," Darry swears. "_Careful_ to you is like a six-pack equaling one beer to Two-Bit. I don't trust either of you."

A tap on the door signals the end to our conversation. Darry leans forward in the chair. "If anything happens and I mean _anything_, you call me. You got that, Ponyboy? Promise me."

"I promise." I really mean it too.

XxX

_Thank you for the reviews. _

_And I know it's a holiday weekend and I was debating whether or not to post but figured I would so ya'll don't have to wait. Please review if you shall be so kind. _

_Pardon typos. _

_Shit is going down in the next chapter. Stay tuned!_

_Thanks again._

_XO,  
Feisty_


	18. A Nurse and a Swollen Head

_SE HINTON owns The Outsiders._

_Cliffhanger? Cursing below._

_Gah. Read on. *covers eyes*_

A Nurse and a Swollen Head

XxX

The storm that blew into town a few nights ago is back. This time worse than before. At dinner we overhear that Cherry Hills is sending most of their staff home. Only a skeleton crew of a few nurses and orderlies will remain.

Dr. Please stays, Nurse Wilkes leaves.

I don't know what to think anymore.

XxX

Thunder rolls. Flora glances at the ceiling. "Thor is roaring."

Clarence _pooh-poohs_ and spreads his chess pieces out across a low coffee table. "Who will play me a game?"

Flora scoots from the couch to the floor, sitting cross-legged. "I will play, Clarence."

Solemn, Clarence says, "The pieces are not for consumption, Flora."

I laugh into my fist. Flora scowls, flinging a pawn at me. "Where're Stubs and Marie? They need to be here. It's one of your last nights."

I suppose it is. I survey the common room, clusters of patients reading or playing games before lights-out. An eerie-peaceful feeling is lingering in the room. With most of the orderlies and nurses gone, it's as if we're deserted, abandoned.

I shrug. "Aw, it's okay…"

"Nooo," Flora urges, slapping my shin. "Go find them, Ponyboy."

"Okay, okay," I say, pulling myself off the couch. "I'll be right back."

XxX

Not finding Marie in her room, I move onto Stubs'. A faint stream of light flows from underneath his door. "Stubs?" I give it a light tap. No answer. "Stubs, you there?" I push the door open. It creaks and inside I see—

"Oh god," I turn away, flushing red. I trip on my own feet backing up. "Oh god, I am so sorry…I shouldn't have—"

Marie's pulling away from Stubs' embrace, smiling. Behind her, Stubs has a hang-dog sort of look. "Ponyboy, come inside and shut the door."

XxX

"So that's why you've never left," I say, raising an eyebrow Stubs' way. "Because of Marie."

"My one and only," Stubs drawls. "She is the ponderous place in my experimental existence…"

Marie lightly slaps his arm. "Now you're just being silly." She smiles. "I can't leave here, Ponyboy. The voices in my head are too loud, telling me to do strange things. I can't take that chance. Of course, I told Stubs he needs to—"

"Never gonna do it, woman," Stubs says, linking his fingers with her. They're sitting on the bed together, while I'm in the corner chair, watching the two of them talk. I may as well be oblivious. "I'm here as long as you are."

Lights flicker around us as the storm declares its arrival.

"Wellup," Stubs says, sliding off the bed. He takes Marie's hand. "Let's get back to the party before Flora catches us."

XxX

Stubs beats everyone except Clarence at chess. Finally declaring him a cheater, Flora pulls out a puzzle. We nearly finish it, but then discover we're missing one piece. All eyes turn to Flora. She admits she ate it. Stubs and I can't stop laughing. It's a good, honest laugh. For a minute, I forget where I really am.

Lights-out is called and we all go back to our respective rooms. When I see what's waiting for me, I almost can't believe it.

XxX

There, sitting on my nightstand is a full bottle of pills. Not my pneumonia meds or the ones Dr. Please prescribed; the ones I got hooked on back at school. After a frozen moment, I stride forward, grabbing the bottle up.

The room spins.

On the ground, the picture frame – holding the photo of me and my brothers – is smashed, broken shards of glass scattered across the floor.

XxX

It's a quarter to ten. Noises keep whispering, a dread sense overwhelming. Without a second thought, I flush the pills and stick the bottle underneath my mattress. Whether she wanted to tempt me or get me caught, I don't know.

Kneeling, I start cleaning up the glass. Picking up and putting tiny pieces into the empty water pitcher. I reach for a long, jagged shard and as my hand wraps around it there's a banging in the hallway. I jump, instinctively tightening, and the slice of glass cuts into my palm like a razor.

"Shit." Bright red blood drips from the center of my palm, down my wrist to my elbow. Whatever mind game Wilkes is playing it's going too far. I'm ending it. I'm getting out of here tonight.

XxX

I crack my door. The hall's empty. Faint slivers of light drift across the linoleum. Shadows lurk in the corners. The chair the night orderly usually occupies is curiously empty. The nurse's station too. Barefoot, I step out, shutting my bedroom door against the light inside. I pad down the wide hallway, footsteps echoing in the corridor.

Blood drips down from my palm, down my fingers, plunking on the ground with each step I take. The payphone is a beckoning beacon. Chest tensing with fear, I run, like I've never run before and grab it up in my slick palm, dialing fast. I'm not stupid; I've learned long ago to trust my gut. And right now it's telling me I'm in the shit for sure.

"Darry," I say as my brother picks up with a gruff hello.

"Ponyboy, what is it?" he asks and I can practically picture him checking the motel clock for the time.

"Something's wrong. Really wrong."

"Slow down, what happened?"

"It's the nurse."

"What?"

"The one who's been killing all those patients."

"_What_? Ponyboy, are you sure?"

"Yeah. I broke into her office and—" Darry groans. "Listen, Dar, you gotta call the cops, get someone up here…Everyone's gone and it's just really weird, she's trying to—"

My eyes open wide. Lowering the phone, I stare into the blackness of the hallway. I take a step forward, getting tugged back by the phone cord. Faint strains of music begin floating toward me. The old radio we use at pill line-up is playing a song by Andy Williams.

_Guess there's no use in hangin' 'round  
Guess I'll get dressed and do the town  
I'll find some crowded avenue  
Though it will be empty without you__…_

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, stomach coiling into a tight wad. Chatter's coming through the receiver. Darry shouting something. I hold it back up.

"—up there. Ponyboy? Are you listening? I'm headed—" Car keys jingle then fall, sounding like Darry's run into something. "God damn it..."

"Someone's here," I whisper, rapt with disbelief.

"Wait—what? What d'you mean...who's there?"

"Darry, I gotta go…call the cops…"

"No, Ponyboy," Darry yells. "Go back to your room and stay there. Don't do a damned th—"

I let the receiver dangle, walking in the direction of the music.

XxX

Reaching the radio, I flip it off, breathing unevenly in the darkness. I don't think I'm alone; I can feel someone lurking in the silence. Any fear I should have is overtaken by adrenaline. That it's come down to this.

A shadow moves out of the corner of my eye.

I wheel around. Something whooshes. I duck fast, crouching and then rise. By the time I'm turning something large clocks me in the side of the head.

XxX

It's damp.

I wake, coughing, drawing my knees into my body and wrapping my arms around them. Squinting, I raise my head, taking in my surroundings. It's dark. I'm on some sort of gravelly bank, a pond of water in front of me…

Wait.

Blinking, I realize I'm still at Cherry Hills, only I'm in the basement, lying on the cement floor. I'm in the hole, the deep pit of water next to me.

Wilkes steps out of the blackness. I scoot backwards.

XxX

She's in her nurse's outfit, her hair prim and proper. A slight dusting of dirt across her cheekbone. She has something in her hands that she keeps transferring back and forth.

Groaning, I bury my head in my drawn up knees. My face hurts something awful.

"Now I didn't want to do that, Ponyboy," Wilkes says, her voice echoing in the cavernous, deep space. "It hurt me more than it hurt you, believe me."

"You came back." I rub my face, my palm caked with blood. "You left the pills in my room."

She nods. "I was hoping you'd take them. The easy way out we both know you need, dear." I struggle to my feet, stumbling and catching myself as my head swims. "But you didn't and now we'll have to do it the hard way." Wilkes sighs. "No one else ever fought me so much."

"No one else knew what you were doing."

"And what is that dear?"

I gawk at her. She honestly looks confused. "Killing people."

She laughs a light tinkle. "Oh, no, no. I'm saving them from their pain." Wilkes takes a step forward. "From the minute I saw you, I knew. You needed someone to care. To ease your suffering."

I draw back, pressing a hand against the crusty wall to steady myself. "Lady, you're pretty fucked up, aren't you?"

Nurse Wilkes stares. Her eyes get wide; deer-in-the-headlights look. Then she frowns, her mask falling away. She raises a gun.

XxX

It's raining again. Streams of rain pelt the hole of water. Shivering, I wipe wet hair from my eyes, feeling like I'm in some sort of Edgar Allan Poe tale.

Wilkes trails the gun on me. "In the water," she says. "It's the only way."

Looking toward the black murkiness, I hesitate. If I go in I have a good chance of never getting out. I hope to god Darry called the cops.

Wilkes gestures. "Go on, dear."

"You know," I say as I begin to wade in. "This isn't gonna do a thing for my pneumonia." She stares. Unmoved. Two-Bit would've appreciated the joke.

The dark water hits my shins, then my knees, then my waist when I realize she's reenacting what she read in my file. The suicidal lie I told Dr. Please. Wilkes must have done this with the others she killed; only they had gone along with it. They were just that lost.

When I reach the middle, I stop. With my feet touching the floor, the water reaches the bottom of my chin. Wilkes is still blathering, espousing how much I need help when my ears pick up noises. Shouts.

They're faint but they're above me.

"You don't have to do this," I say, loudly, hoping Wilkes doesn't focus on the noises upstairs. "I swear I won't say a thing. You can go and I'll go back to my room…"

"I'm afraid not, dear. I know you don't see it now but this is for the best. Now just go under and forget," Wilkes instructs. "Take a breath and it will all be over."

I bob, stone-faced.

"Ponyboy, I would hate for it to come to this." Wilkes waves the gun. My heart jumps in my chest as I hear shuffled footsteps from somewhere in the corner. Hesitant whispers.

"Yeah, because you'd have to explain a bullet wound. And good luck with that."

I almost smirk as rage crosses Wilkes' face. But then she's cocking the gun and I'm thinking I don't have a whole lot to smile about. She aims it straight at me. "You'll thank me for this, Ponyboy. You really will."

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Then there's a bang so loud I swear to god the gun has gone off. And when I realize that there's too much commotion for me to be dead, that I'm alive, I open my eyes.

XxX

"Nurse Wilkes," Dr. Please is asking in a calm voice, "What are you doing?"

Wilkes stammers something, yet the gun never falters from my body. The cop Please has brought with him yells, "Lower your weapon. Now!" He aims his own at Wilkes.

I watch all this with wide eyes and then swear inwardly. Darry's coming through the small side door, following the cop. It's dark in the small space but my brother finds me instantly. He staggers forward. "Ponyboy!"

"Stay away!" Wilkes commands in an even voice that sends shivers down my spine. The cop presses my brother back as best he can; Darry's hands balling into fists. Darry's eyes lock with mine, asking if I'm okay. I give a slight nod and he swallows thickly.

"Beverly, please," Please says. "Tell me why you feel this is necessary."

"He needs to be delivered of his pain," Wilkes announces. "They all did." Realization dawns on Dr. Please's face; he doesn't know what to say.

"Why are you helping us?" I ask, making my voice loud, trying to distract, ready to get an answer to my question.

"It's my job to heal the suffering that is plaguing you."

I bounce in the water, staying afloat, trying not to let the cold get to me, despite my chattering teeth. "S-s-so…you healed Joanie and Luke and Paul and Jamie and everyone who came here for help?" I watch the cop. Ever so slightly he's scooting closer to a frazzled Wilkes.

"Yes, dear. Cherry Hills almost released those poor souls into the world, unaided. I had to stop them."

I suck in a breath, coughing. "You murdered them," I croak. The briefest of whispers. My eyes flicker. Darry's shaking his head, talking fast to Dr. Please.

"No," Wilkes says. "They each took their own life. I merely provided them with the tools to make their decision."

Anger flares within at her delusion. At the sadness that six people have died all because _she_ saw it fit. "You tricked them! All of them!" I yell and Wilkes' face goes sheet white. "You gave them awful thoughts and made them take their lives because of _you_. You're a killer."

"Ponyboy, you're in denial. If you'd just let me take your pain away…"

"What pain?" I snap. "You're craz—"

"Ponyboy!" Darry hollers, his voice bordering on a plea, echoing loud in the small area. "Shut up. Just shut up the hell up, okay?"

I bite my lip and sink into the water. It's comical chaos; I can see the cop already regretting bringing Darry along but knowing Darry he would have come anyway.

"I know I helped you," Wilkes says, benign. Trying to smile. The cop tenses. Waiting.

"I lied. I lied to you about everything," I say. "You never helped me."

Wilkes goes still. White. From her place of five feet away on the bank, she shuffles forward, gun raised. "I'm going to help you," Wilkes says, sounding distressed.

"Beverly…" Please says, edging closer. "We can talk about this upstairs. Will you let Ponyboy out? Let him go to his brother…"

Wilkes is frowning. "He doesn't appreciate him," she says in a loud whisper.

Darry's shaking his head, his features twisted into a sort of pained anger. "Please," he says, edging closer to the pool. "Please." The tension is palpable. I can feel something about to happen. I drift closer to Darry, waiting.

"Beverly…" Please tries again.

"No. No I cannot let him out." Beverly – Nurse Wilkes – whips wild eyes my way. "You should have just done what I said, dear."

The cop's finger touches the trigger.

She fires. Right as she does, I suck in a deep breath and dip beneath the surface of the water. I keep my eyes open, just waiting for a bullet to find me. Above, I can hear muffled noises, see the glossy reflection of the waves and raindrops. It's blacker than black beneath the surface. The darkness ripples as I swim to the edge of the pool.

I swim fast, heart pounding, needing to see Darry. My lungs are about to burst. Finally, I glimpse the edge of the pool approaching, I stretch hands out and grip the ledge, pulling myself up, afraid to see what's happening on the surface.

Water's spilling down my face, into my eyes. I can make out blurry figures; Wilkes sitting in a corner, handcuffed hands on her face, screaming something, Dr. Please kneeling beside. I choke, sputtering, keeping a grip, avoiding sinking back into the water.

"There!"

I see the cop pointing at me and then somewhere from shadows Darry rushes. He falls to his knees on the ground, grabbing me by the wrists, by the waist, and yanking me out. We tip backwards and as I cough Darry pulls me into a sitting position, brushing wet hair out of my eyes. Bracing myself upright with my hands, I gag on the water and muck, taking slurpy breaths. Darry, pounding my back hard, keeps repeating my name over and over again.

XxX

Darry and Dr. Please are talking softly in the dark courtyard. The cops are reading Nurse Wilkes her rights. I glance up. Flora waves from a window above. I wave back and then eye the cut on my palm. That's how they found me downstairs. They followed the blood trail. A demented sort of Hansel and Gretel.

The heavy blanket draped around my shoulders is bulky and hot. A headache pounds across my skull and I wonder what Wilkes cold cocked me with. I watch my brother and the doctor talk, knowing Darry's doing his damndest to get me released before my scheduled date on Tuesday. My eyes go back to Wilkes. She's staring at me.

"You're a very determined young man," Please says, clasping my shoulder. I jump. My brother wraps an arm around my shoulder.

"He told you?"

"He did." Please raises an eyebrow. "I don't much advocate deception, Ponyboy, but…you did a good thing." He looks over toward Wilkes. "I can't believe that she…" He trails off.

"Dr. Please," I say. "You helped me a lot. If it weren't for you…well, I don't know where I'd be."

"You did this on your own, Ponyboy," Please says. "We're going to—"

An eruption; this time we all jump. Wilkes is chattering as the cops walk her to the police cruiser. "I want to talk to him, I want to talk to Ponyboy…"

Please clears his throat. "As I was saying…we're going to release you tonight on account of the uh, circumstances."

"That's probably the understatement of the century," I mutter, eyes still on Wilkes. Her handcuffed hands hanging loosely by her side. Darry and Please chatter a bit more until—

"I have to tell you why, dear, I need you to listen…" They're nearing us, having to pass us to get to the police cruiser. Wilkes catches my gaze. Darry pulls me closer.

"Listen, listen…"

I take one step forward. Curious. "Pony, no," Darry says.

"I'm sorry," Wilkes says. "I never meant you hurt you, you sweet child." The cops clear a path, two officers flanking her. She passes right in front of me. "I needed to save them." Her eyes are frozen. "I'll still save you."

I frown. "What—Ow! Shit!"

Nurse Wilkes has lunged forward slightly, brushing her hands against my waist. The cops shout, Darry yells, pulling me back behind him. Dr. Please steps forward, calming. The cops yank her away. "Crazy broad," one of them mutters.

Stunned, I rub my elbow where a pain is; a lingering sting.

Darry peers closely. "You okay?"

"Something bit me." I rub my left elbow with my right hand.

Darry looks like he's had enough of Cherry Hills. "Let's go, Ponyboy. Let's get the hell out of here."

I nod, following Darry a few paces before stopping. Licking my lips, my mouth is as dry as cotton. Heat begins to rise from my face. Something's wrong. Glancing back, I see Wilkes, now in the back of the police car, still smiling. I bring my elbow up. A small trail of blood flows from the slightest pinprick. I look at the ground. There's a syringe about two feet away, near the black boot of a police officer.

Damn it. I made it this far and—

"Darry." My brother keeps walking, not hearing me. I try to speak up through my choked throat. "Darry—" My brother turns.

I hit the grass, landing on my shoulder. My breath comes in herky-jerky waves. I'm rolled onto my back and the stars look so bright above me. "Dr. Please, please!" Darry yells, linking an arm underneath my neck, drawing me up.

I want to close my eyes against the strangest feeling overtaking my body. It's like burning. I groan. "No, no, no, no you don't, Ponyboy," Darry's saying. He pats my face. My head lolls. "Kiddo, stay with me. Stay here."

"Okay, Darry, okay. Glory, you ain't gotta yell." I give him a grin.

His smile is tight but it's there.

XxX

"Oh...this is shit..."

"Ponyboy, don't—"

"Oh god…" I hurt everywhere. Pins and needles crawling up and down my body. My heart is pounding, at an odd rhythm. The EMT beside me must think so too because he's keeping two fingers on my wrist.

"I know, kiddo, I know. Just hold on, okay?" Darry's voice shakes. "How's he doing?"

"He needs a hospital," the EMT says. "Once we get there they'll know what it is and how much he got."

I twist on the stretcher, looking up at my brother. His forehead is knotted in a frown. "You look funny." I stretch my arm up, trying to poke Darry's face, long windy cords tethered to my arms, clear and colored liquids running through them. I feel drunk, my speech thick. The roar of the ambulance siren racks my brain.

"I'm just worried, Ponyboy." Gently, Darry pushes my arm back down by my side. "Lie still," he says.

"Lie, lie, lie, lie," I garble. "That's all Nurse Wilkes did. All, all, all..."

"Shhh, Pony..."

I shift, anxious. "I don't feel good. I feel sick."

"Worse than before?" the EMT asks, alert. I nod. "How?"

"I just…I just...I don't know…" The EMT shuffles with some medicine. There's a prick on my finger, my fingertip squeezed.

"Did you call Sodapop?"

"He's on his way…"

"He's gonna be so-ooo mad..." I close my eyes. I want to ask about Wilkes. But before I can it gets dark.

Darry strokes my hair, his touch cool. "No, he ain't."

XxX

_Lordy, I hope you all like this. Please read and review if you shall be so kind. _

_Pardon typos. _

_Two chapters left…hope it's not dragging._

_Thanks again._

_XO,  
Feisty_


	19. Down to the Bones

_SE Hinton owns the Outsiders._

_Cursing. Soda action for all you freaks. _

_Long chapter. _

_Egads. _

Down to the Bones

XxX

Something's burning. Seeping and crawling through my veins. I inhale a deep, sucking breath, my whole body going rigid, jumping as whatever I'm being pumped up with shocks me into the now. There's a flash behind my eyelids. A bright kind of light.

"He's back," a female voice says.

XxX

They buzz Darry and Soda over the intercom.

The nurse said they had gone to get coffee but most likely Darry was blowing off steam or telling Soda what had happened. I remember Darry's anxious face; how he looked in the ambulance.

Muffled voices sound from outside my bedroom door. The knob twists and both my brothers barge in; Soda stops short, in mid conversation with Darry. Then before Darry or I can say anything he flies across the room.

"Ponyboy," Soda says. He sits on the side of the bed, throwing his arms around my neck, careful of the cords. I wrap my arms around his shaking back and hold tight, overwhelmed. Finally Soda pulls away, the rims of his eyes red. "You scared me something awful."

Darry stands in the corner, fists stuck in his pockets, reminding me of the hospital after Windrixville. "It's okay, Dar," I say, sticking my arm out toward him. His Adam's apple bobs. Coming closer, Darry slips his hand into mine. He squeezes.

XxX

"Darry," Soda says. "Trash." He rolls me over onto my side, rubbing my shoulder, as I puke into the bucket Darry practically lobs across the room.

I finish dry heaving and close my eyes. Darry and the doctor talk in low voices about my blood sugar, the medicine that's zapping me back into consciousness and causing the vomiting.

Five a.m. sunlight filters through the window shades. Darry's been up for nearly 24 hours – dealing with work, therapy and then the late night call back to Cherry Hills. A trace of a beard and dark circles show everything. He's dog tired.

In fact, I can't believe it's only been since last night that everything blew up.

"You okay?" Soda, still rubbing my back, smells like gasoline and sweat. He's wearing his DX cap and a flannel shirt, making him look like a trucker. I glance over at the IV, a clear liquid swirling through the thin tube, giving me some sort of artificial sugar. Wilkes shot me up with enough insulin to put me on a blood-sugar roller coaster ride.

Thoughts are on my mind. They swirl.

Cherry Hills. Wilkes. The story. The need to write it down is an ache. And I'm worried. Worried the paper's not going to wait. Nick—Max—they'll write it without me or not. It's a deadline I hadn't counted on not making.

I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. "I gotta call Nick."

"Now now," Soda says.

"But—"

Darry halts his conversation with the doctor. "Leave it alone, Ponyboy."

"Can you call him? At least let him know what's goin' on…?"

"Darry…" Soda says, shaking his head no. "He's just gotta rest."

After a moment's hesitation, surprisingly Darry gives in. "Fine. I'll call him, Ponyboy, if you be quiet and settle down."

Leaning back against the wall, Darry crosses his arms. Soda's eyes flash. Something's wrong. He's angry with Darry. While my brothers have been interacting with each other I've noticed they haven't really been talking. More like making obligatory movements. Curt remarks for my sake.

I sit up, pulling my knees to my chest, ready to get to the bottom of it. "You guys—" Another wave of nausea hits me. "Oh god…"

Soda scrambles for the trash.

XxX

Lucky. That's all I keep hearing. Lucky it was insulin and not cyanide in the needle. Lucky Wilkes swung low. Lucky Darry showed up in time. Lucky I called him.

To show for it all, I have two black eyes and one hell of a headache.

It's not so bad, considering.

XxX

Darry's gone to get coffee, leaving me alone with Sodapop.

"Soda?"

"Hmm?"

"Is anything wrong?" He gives me a look and I have to laugh. "I mean, other than this?" Yawning, Soda stretches out in the chair next to my bed. Shutting his eyes, he puts his hand on my arm.

"You're okay. I don't give a shit about anything else."

XxX

The nurse hands me a cookie. A cup of orange juice. "Well, go on," she says. Expectant.

Leaning over, trailed by cords tethered to my arms, I set the food on my nightstand. "I'm not hungry." I survey the small room, sick of hospitals and nurses and needles. I just want to get out of here. Outside, the sun's dim, rainclouds shielding its beams.

Darry, in the chair beside my bed reading a newspaper, says, "Just drink your juice, Ponyboy."

I chug the gritty sweet juice and the nurse, a pretty redhead, takes the cup when I'm done. "Good boy," she says. She leaves the room.

"You want this?" Lowering the paper, Darry lifts an eyebrow at the cookie I'm holding out to him. He shakes his head; I aim and toss the cookie into the trash. Soda's gone to call Steve and Two-Bit, leaving me alone with my brother. I'm antsy, having questions and wanting answers. "Darry?"

"Uh huh?"

"Is that today's paper?"

"Yeah."

"Is there anything about Cherry Hills in there?"

"No."

"Darry?"

"What, kiddo?"

"What happened to Wilkes?" My brother's hands tighten around the paper. He lowers it. "Is she—?"

"She's in jail."

There's a long beat, neither of us knowing what to say. Then at the exact same time Darry and I speak.

"I woulda killed her, Ponyboy."

"I'm checking myself out, Dar."

Darry sighs; he doesn't look happy. I stare at the bandage on my palm.

XxX

Nick's sitting on the front stoop when Darry pulls his truck into the driveway. He cuts the engine. It's three in the afternoon and neither of my brothers are happy about the fact I checked myself out but hell, I have a deadline. They don't have a say.

Soda gives me a look when he sees Nick. "Oh, Ponyboy…you're not—"

"I am," I tell my brother, crawling over him and out of the truck. A soft swear comes from behind me.

Nick stands. He has a duffel bag slung around his shoulder, a pencil stuck behind his ear, notepads under his arm. "You're looking alive, Curtis."

"Thanks for coming."

He holds up the duffel bag. "I brought you some stuff." Nick gives me a nod. "You up for this?"

"I feel like shit, man. But I'm okay."

Darry pounds up the stairs, opening the front door, a pissed-off expression on his face. "Go write. But if he gets tired, I'm kicking your ass out, Nick."

XxX

The contents of the bag lay strewn across my bed. Among the jumble of items are an old pair of clothes from Cherry Hills, my belt, a book, the photo of me and Darry and Soda, flecked with blood from the other night. I pick it up and stare. "Thanks," I tell Nick. "For picking all this up."

Nick fingers a makeshift greeting card stuck in-between everything. "You got a fan."

Examining the card, constructed on white craft paper, I see it's from Flora. On the front is a surprisingly good crayon drawing of Cherry Hills; inside are the words: _We'll Miss You. Come visit me. Your friend, Flora. _

"You, uh, wanna write?" Nick says, clearing his throat.

"Yeah, I do."

I pack everything away.

XxX

It's taken me about an hour to dissect everything for Nick that's happened since we last talked. We go through the notes in my head and Nick's notes that he took on his own. Intent, Nick listens, only interrupting me to clarify or interject his opinion.

Now we're about two hours into the article with no end in sight. The deadline looms; Max wants it for tomorrow. The story's professional. I want to leave myself out of it; merely a conduit. No mention of what Wilkes had done to me. The story focuses on the victims and the evidence. The way it should be.

I'm sitting on top of the bed, feet pulled in Indian-style. Nick's sitting on the ground, papers spread out every which way. I bite the end of the pen. "How long you think?"

"A thousand words?" Nick says. "I don't know. Max says he'll run it front page if it's good enough."

"He better." Nick just laughs.

We scribble.

I read aloud, pausing at the blank parts. "Shit." I scowl at what I've wrote. "I wish I had my other notes."

"You ever find out who took 'em?"

I shake my head. "No. I didn't find them in any of her things and if she had taken them I think she would've been…smarter."

"Curtis, the broad was crazy, pure and simple. I mean, hell, she thought she could control…what? The crazies at Cherry Hills? The depressed? You?"

I go back to my notes. "Let's just write the story."

XxX

Finally, we finish. It was more draining that I had thought, my headache having returned.

Nick leaves around midnight, heading straight to the Tulsa World to type it up on Max's typewriter. "Cutting it close, Curtis," he says, yawning as he goes.

I stretch out on my bed. The comforter cool and familiar.

XxX

Soda wakes me. It's still dark, the clock reading four o'clock in the morning. "Here," he says, handing me a glass of water. I chug it down, noticing I still have the hospital bracelet on my wrist.

"Was I hollering?"

"Not yet," he says, peering closely. "Dreaming though. Do you remember?"

"No." I squint in the dark. "I thought you went back to the apartment." Soda's still dressed, even wearing his cap.

"Nah," Soda says, crawling over me to flop down on the bed. "Not tonight."

XxX

The next morning, I hear voices even before I reach the kitchen. Shuffling out of the bedroom, I see Two-Bit and Steve. Steve's making coffee and Two-Bit's chewing on a muffin. The shower's running. No sign of Darry or Soda.

Steve glances up. "Well, look who got sprung."

"We got a spy in our midst," Two-Bit says, bouncing over to give me a hug. "Again, with the good deeds, Ponyboy. Saving lives. Chasing nurses. How can I compete?"

I prop an arm on the counter. "Darry told you?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "He called us the other night swearing a blue streak. Ain't never heard Superman flip that much."

Two-Bit clasps an arm on my shoulder. "You're lookin' rough. You okay? You sure?" he asks as I nod. "You wanna sit down?" He gestures to a few paper bags on the kitchen table. "You hungry? Stevie brought breakfast."

"Jesus," Steve swears at Two-Bit, "Leave him alone."

Walking around the table, I open one of the bags. Inside is an assortment of muffins and donuts. I raise a brow at Steve. "Did Evie put you up to this? I mean, I've never known you to be naturally generous…"

"Hardy-fucking-har, kid." Steve snaps. "You know, the two black eyes look good on you, smart ass." Then, Steve pulls a blade out of his pocket, flips it open and slices the hospital bracelet off my wrist.

XxX

"Wakey wakey eggs and bakey, Superman," Two-Bit crows as Darry finally emerges from his bedroom. He must've been tired; I don't remember Darry ever sleeping past eight. My brother looks shocked at all of us crowding the kitchen.

Soda, freshly showered and shaved, leans across the table to grab a donut. He asks Darry if he has to work today and Darry grunts a yes, the late shift's his. They don't say anything else to each other, Darry pouring himself a cup of coffee. Soda turns to Steve and they start talking about cars.

"So, Ponyboy," Two-Bit asks, "Do you have plans for future stakeouts?" Darry chokes on his coffee.

"Shut up, man," I say.

"No, really, because if you do I'd really like to know so I can get in on one of 'em. We could be like James Bond or the Keystone Kops or…or shit—" Reaching over to grab another muffin, Two-Bit spills the entire carton of milk. Soda scoots away from the table, wiping at his jeans and swearing.

"I'll get a towel," I say, seeing the vein in Darry's forehead jump.

Steve elbows me in the ribs as I pass. "Maybe next time you think about playing Sherlock, you'll remember your busted face."

"Hey, screw you, Steve."

"Knock it off." Darry starts laying into them about keeping it down, keeping it low-key and just as I'm thinking both of my brothers look half-crazed the doorbell rings, giving me an escape. When I see who it is, I step outside on the porch

XxX

"You did it, kid." Max, with his shades on, the cigarette dangling from his lips, hands me a pile of newspapers. "Special delivery, today's paper."

Disbelief wells up. I glance down at the black ink. Proof. Validation of what I found. There on the front page is the headline: _Tulsa World_ _Investigates:_ _Nurse Arrested at Cherry Hills in String of Murders _by P.M. Curtis and Nick Jericho_._

Max barks a laugh. "Hell, don't looked so shocked, Curtis."

"I'm sorry…I just—I just can't believe it..."

"Well, believe it," Max says. He takes his sunglasses off, looking me square in the eyes. "You did good. The _story's_ fantastic. Just fuckin' fantastic."

"Thanks." My mouth turns up.

"Listen," Max says. "Come by the paper soon. I want to talk to you when you're feeling better."

"Sure thing. Listen, did you hear anything more about Wi—" The door behind me opens. Darry steps onto the porch.

"What's going on, Ponyboy?" He eyes Max. "Who's this?"

"Darry, this is Max. Max, Darry."

Face clouding, Darry doesn't offer his hand. Max settles for a nod. I shift the weight of the stack of newspapers in my arm, figuring that's as good as we're gonna get.

XxX

I can't read the story yet. I'm too nervous. Instead, I stack the pile of newspapers on the coffee table and wait.

XxX

Everyone's gone, chased out by Darry. Steve and Two-Bit each have taken a newspaper, promising to read it later, promising to come back. Darry pours unfinished coffee into the sink. I help Darry clean the house up; opening the garbage to throw out empty paper bags.

A funny sound comes from Sodapop and we both turn. My brother's standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the front page of the paper. His face is scrunched up like he might cry.

I take a step forward. "Soda?"

"You wrote this…"

Unsure as to whether it's a question or a statement I say, "What do you think? Is it good?" His jaw tightens as he stares. Reads the words. Then—

"God damn it, Ponyboy." Soda's voice cracks, his fist crushing the newspaper. Shaking it. "You almost got killed for this. And all you can ask is if I think it's good? I don't give a shit about that—you, it's you—"

Breaking off, Soda leaves the house, slamming the front door. The newspaper crumpled on the ground.

XxX

Soda doesn't come back. I want to go look for him but Darry tells me to stay put. Darry has to go into work; he's missed so much it's a blessing his boss hasn't fired him. I sit on the edge of the couch and watch him, feeling bad he's so stressed out.

Darry darts around the house, grabbing his tool belt, his keys, trying to explain what's been going on. "Soda didn't mean to blow up…he's just…well, he's upset with me too. Just…" Darry shakes his head. "Just everything. He keeps it bottled up and doesn't know how to let it out."

"What happened at the hospital, Dar?"

Darry stops, says with resolve, "He doesn't like me very much right now."

And that's all he'll say.

XxX

I read the article. A first-person account of what went on at Cherry Hills, leaving out the personal details of nearly becoming a victim myself.

My name's in print. And for the first time in a long time I'm proud of myself.

XxX

I pick up the phone and call Sodapop. It rings and rings.

XxX

The day passes fast.

I take a nap. Clean. Try to pay some bills for Darry. Wonder at the quiet. Know I'm gonna get bored real fast.

XxX

"It's a great story, Ponyboy." Startled, I glance up at Darry, home from work, who's lingering in the doorframe of my bedroom, carrying the newspaper. I shut my notepad. He sits beside me on the bed, his expression awed. "I never knew you could write like that…it was like reading something from a real book."

"Thanks."

"I'm real proud of you, kiddo."

"Thanks," I whisper.

Darry pats my knee. "You want to make some dinner?"

I rub the bandage on my palm, gathering guts. "Look…listen…" Darry, in the process of standing up, sits back down. "Darry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for…for dragging you into this. I'm sorry for the pills. I'm sorry for everything."

"You don't have to be sorry, Ponyboy. I'm just glad it's over. That you're okay…I don't know what we'd do if…"

"Yeah…well, thanks for not—Thanks for not giving up on me." It's a long overdue apology but I have to let him know how much I appreciate it. "You and Soda – You've probably saved my life more times than I can count."

Darry swallows hard.

XxX

I take care of Sodapop the next morning.

I manage to catch the truck right as Soda's pulling away from the DX. He swears as I jump inside the cab. He brakes hard, jostling us forward. I tug the door shut.

"Get out, Ponyboy."

"No way."

"Fine."

Cranking the wheel, Soda peels out, burning rubber down the street. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I catch Steve watching us speed away. The truck takes a corner sharp and we drive into town. We pass the high school, the track gleaming red in the noon sunlight. Soda's fist is wrapped tight around the stick shift. I don't say anything, just sitting as he drives. The look on his face is one I've never seen before.

Finally, he pulls into a grocery store parking lot and cuts the engine. "You gonna stay mad at me your whole life?"

"I ain't mad."

"Soda, look, I'm real sorry…"

"Don't," he says through his teeth. "Don't say you're sorry. You're not sorry. You wouldn't leave for anything. You wanted to solve it and you did it. Congratulations."

"Okay. Okay, you're right." I nod, lowering my voice. "But I'm still sorry. I know what I did wasn't fair to you guys. And this thing with you and Dar…what's goin' on, Sodapop? What happened?"

It's hard for him. He's struggling. The tenseness of our conversation is a thing I never thought would happen. But I'll listen—or wait—for hours if that's what it takes. I have a lot of making up to do.

Soda suddenly punches the steering wheel. "I hated you being in there," he grits out. "I hated that we couldn't help you. And then you wouldn't talk to me…but you talked to Darry. You went and talked to that doctor…both of you…"

I reach out, eyes wide. "Soda…"

"No." He shakes his head at my protest. "I know I'm such an asshole for even thinking that. I'm glad you're better, kiddo. I'm glad it worked."

"So then what…?"

"I told Darry it was his fault."

"You what?"

Soda's face is pained. "I barely talked to you last week. And then Darry calls me in the middle of the night, telling me something happened, something _bad_, and I thought I'd never see you again. I mean, do you know what that's like? It's the worst feeling on the fuckin' planet."

"I yelled at him in the middle of the hospital. Told him he shoulda done more to get you released…that it never would have happened if…" Soda slumps against the window, covering his eyes. "I'm such a shit."

"Darry knows," I say. "Darry knows you didn't mean it."

"Maybe. But still…I shouldn't have said it. It's the worst thing I coulda done, blaming him." Soda glances over at me, eyes glossy. "Your article's good, Ponyboy. I just hope it was worth it." He laughs and whether it's out of humor or sorrow I can't tell.

Leaning back in my seat, I look at my brother.

XxX

_Wowza, so many thanks for last week's reviews. Not to worry, I will wrap this up in a nice and tidy bow, hence the lingering two chapters. Hope you're enjoying._

_Pardon typos._

_Please read and review._

_Loves,_

_FeistyFeist_


	20. Have to Wonder

_SE Hinton owns the Outsiders._

_Gah, I'm so nervous to end this…_

_Cursing below._

Have to Wonder

XxX

Everything is both old and new. It's real; not blotted or dulled. I start taking my pneumonia medication. I don't crave the smokes.

Soda apologizes.

My brothers are talking but it's not the same. The edge is still sharp; Darry hurt and Soda sobered. They're careful around me and unsure. But it's fine because I'm unsure too. I'll heal and so will they. I just hope it's soon.

And even though I've only been in Cherry Hills for two weeks, I haven't really been home in six months. Through taking the pills and being sick, I wasn't whole – I wasn't me.

I finally see that.

I'm just not ready for everything that happens next.

XxX

It's about a week after the article comes out. Two-Bit and I are headed back to the house after seeing a movie downtown. We round the corner and a man steps into our path. He raises a camera and snaps a picture.

"What's goin on, man?" Two-Bit asks, unaffected.

The man, wearing a hat and collared shirt eyes me. "Ponyboy Curtis?"

"Yeah?"

The camera flashes and I wince at the light. Two-Bit's frowning. "Hey, what the hell is this?"

"I'm Sam Fisher with the Tulsa Examiner."

I groan. "You're a reporter."

"I was wondering if you'd like to make a statement."

I brush past him. "You read the article. It's all in there."

"No," he says. "The real story. You and the nurse. We want that."

"Man, I don't know what you're talking about." Inwardly, I'm cursing, wondering who's been talking, how he found out the scoop at Cherry Hills. Then again, maybe no one spilled the beans. Maybe the guy's just a good reporter. Max has been real good about keeping the other story quiet. And after my experience at Windrixville the last thing I want is another story about me.

Sam Fisher laughs. "Nice try, kid. Now look, we want to run a feature story on your part, get some quotes and—"

"Wait – what? No," I say sidestepping him. "No, I'm sorry…"

Sam follows. "C'mon kid, don't you wanna tell your story – the real story to—"

"Look man, I just wanna be left alone."

The flash pops as he takes another photo. Two-Bit bristles; I can see my usually easy-going friend drawing himself up. "It's a great angle, kid, orphan, JD, hero…" Another flash.

I hold my hand up, shielding the camera just in time. I snag Two-Bit's sleeve. "C'mon, let's go…" Instead—

Two-Bit grabs the camera strap looped around Sam's neck. "Listen shit head, I'm gonna break your camera if you don't get the hell outta here." Two-Bit gives him a shove off the curb.

Without missing a beat, Sam gives me a wave and swaggers off, capping his camera lens.

Two-Bit pulls out a pack of smokes transferring it back and forth between his hands. He won't smoke them. "Fuckin' creep," he says.

I shield my eyes against the sun. "He's still gonna write it."

XxX

The article comes out a week later. The Tulsa Examiner is a slick, glossy magazine, well-versed in opinion pieces. On the front cover is a photo of me. It's the last one Sam took; I have my hand up and out, obscuring most of my face, my hair long and in my eyes. The headline _The Words Ponyboy Curtis Won't Say_ is emblazoned in red stencil font across my palm. While it's not a damaging article, it brings more attention than I want.

The story focuses mostly on the irony of me going undercover to solve the murders and then getting targeted by Nurse Wilkes; that I solved it. That Tulsa World used me, put me in jeopardy. The story has a few quotes from the staff at Cherry Hills. The quote from Apple Face makes me laugh: _I just thought he was a particularly difficult patient._

Sodapop's the first one to show me the magazine. I curse when he walks through the front door. Soda has this shocked, pissed-off expression on his face and about 20 magazines in his hand, making me think he bought out the newsstand.

Darry just stares at me. At them. "Try to stay home for a while, huh, Ponyboy?"

XxX

Nick calls me and laughs.

Max calls and wonders who let the truth-and-nothing-but-the-truth of the story leak.

Colin calls with congratulations. "I think you figured it out," he says. The compliment leaves a lump in my throat.

Two-Bit makes me autograph one of the magazines.

XxX

I listen to Darry for about a week. I stay home and ignore the phone calls, the requests for comments and interviews.

Nick tells me Wilkes plead guilty. She gave a full and signed confession. There'll be no trial. If the cops need my statement they'll be in touch.

I have no words for the relief I feel.

XxX

With both of my brothers at work, I take the opportunity to meet Max at his office. His feet are kicked up on his desk, cigarette butts in his ashtray. "What're the rest of your summer plans, Curtis?"

I sit, rubbing palms on my jeans. Raise an eyebrow. "Hopefully working."

I can't do it. Can't stay cooped up at home the rest of the summer. Bored and antsy, I keep replaying scenes from Cherry Hills over and over in my head. Calling Nick at the paper to get dirt. Contemplating the future of Wilkes.

Max smirks. "You ready to come back?" I nod and then Max asks, "Just for the summer?" I give him a guarded look and Max continues. "You still planning on going back to school? Sticking around here? I know Nick was saying something about you having some trouble away at school…being uh, displaced…"

"Well, I—What d'ya want, Max?"

"I want to offer you a job. Full time." My mouth drops open. He holds a hand up.

"Your story was solid reporting not to mention you got the shit kicked out of you for it. There's passion there."

I smirk. "So you're telling me shit-kicking is a requirement for the position?"

Max snorts. "Now I can't promise you all the bells and whistles but it'd be an entry level reporting job. Is that something you'd want?"

"I do. I really do. But I gotta think about it."

"Then get out of here, Curtis and think about it. Oh and before you go…" Max straightens up and leans over, pawing at a pile of papers on his desk. He digs around and then tosses me a few files. "Take these and read 'em. They're important."

XxX

Stirring the spaghetti sauce absentmindedly, the spoon moving counterclockwise, I read the articles Max has printed. There are about five of them, each detailing a case from the past where a nurse or someone in the health care industry has killed or tried to kill their patients. Some did it to receive praise and attention; some did it because God told them to. And some just because.

My skin crawls.

XxX

"Hey Ponyboy…"

The voice is familiar and I turn from the cereals lined in front of me. Liz stands in the middle of the aisle, a shopping cart in front of her. She points. "I'd go with the Frosted Flakes."

"Hey," I say, giving her a grin. "How you been?"

"Good and you?"

"Nice to be home."

"You look better," she says, soft and quiet. Almost awed. "So much better."

My face gets hot. "Thanks."

Liz tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, biting her lip. Her eyes scan a space behind my shoulder, the aisles. "Darry's here," I tell her, trying not to smile. "Want me to—?"

"Oh, no, no…" she sputters, waving it off. Before she can protest I stick my head out and holler for my brother. Darry's strolling across the grocery store, a jug of chocolate milk in his fist and I have to laugh at the image of Darry – a big, impressive guy – solely carrying chocolate milk.

"Whatcha need, Pony—?" Darry's eyes get big. "Oh, hi, Liz…"

Blushing, Liz says hello. She and Darry wind up talking for ten more minutes before making plans to have coffee next week. Smirking, I throw the Frosted Flakes in our cart.

XxX

July turns into August. I go back to the paper for the summer, unsure of Max's offer. Tempted but unsure. I don't mention anything about it to Darry and Soda, already on thin ice just for beginning work again.

Nick and I chase stories. And I realize what I've known for a long time. This is the job I want. I love the rush, the feeling of chasing dominoes; when you knock one down, everything can fall into place or break apart. It's a feeling I know well.

XxX

A letter comes. It's from Wilkes. I read it one morning, frozen in the kitchen. Darry enters, reading over my shoulder. I don't stop him.

It's long and rambling, apologizing, saying it wasn't her fault. That it was God's destiny, divine will and other bullshit excuses. Her lawyers claim she's sick and that maybe she believes them. Why else would she do those things? She's so glad I didn't die, God didn't want that. Wilkes asks me to come visit her in prison. Speak on her behalf.

I set the letter on the kitchen table and push back in my chair.

"Pony…" Darry puts a hand on my shoulder.

Standing, I leave the kitchen. I rip the letter up and flush it down the toilet.

XxX

Soda finds me in my bedroom.

"Darry call you?"

"Yeah," he says, dark eyes searching my face. "Everything okay?"

Resting an elbow on my desk, I chew my nail. Anger I haven't felt before twitches inside. Soda moves around the desk, plopping on my bed. "Kiddo..."

"I'm just pissed. She's gonna try to get away with it, Sodapop." My chest constricts. "I can't goddamn believe it."

"She won't," Soda says. "Don't you worry."

"I'll testify if I have to. She just can't do this." Soda's lips press together in a firm line.

A soft creak of the floor and then Darry's lingering in the doorway. Even Darry, who isn't afraid of anything, looks worried.

XxX

Soda's right. Shortly after getting the letter, Wilkes gets life in prison. The insanity case didn't hold muster. The anchors announce it on the news one night, Darry and I watching grainy footage of Wilkes getting shoved into the back of a cop car.

I think of the black and white photos of Jamie Coleman and the others. It hardly seems fair.

XxX

I swing the front door open, blinking at the man who has just knocked. "Can I help you?" He is tall and thin, clean shaven with close cropped brown hair. He has on cowboy boots, a loose white shirt and a bag slung across his chest. He grins and suddenly I know that smile.

"Oh, holy shit. Stubs."

"Ponyboy Curtis," he drawls, shaking my hand. "Alive and well."

"I can't believe," I say. "What're you doing here? You checked out? What about Marie? How's Flora and—"

He holds up a hand. "One question at a time. I'm out for the week and then it's back to Cherry Hills. Flora is well; she misses you and can't stop eating puzzle pieces. We've gone through five now." He wiggles his solemn eyebrows. "And the reason I am here is to bring you these."

Stubs pulls a bundle of white from the bag. I reach for them, feeling the crumpled paper beneath my palms. I stare at them in wonder. "My notes." I look up. "You took them? You knew?"

"I confess I didn't know why you were there but I did know someone who shouldn't would find these. You need to work on your hiding spots." Stubs eyes are calm. "I had similar suspicions. But what would I know? I'm just a crazy."

"That's what they all say." I grin, glancing back down at my notes. "Thanks. Thanks a lot."

"Figured you'd wanna have them back." Stubs shrugs. "Memories and whatnot."

I open the front door. "Say, you wanna come in?"

"I could go for a cup of coffee," Stubs says, moving inside and past me, his shirt billowing out, like he's floating on air.

XxX

I make plans before anyone knows.

I plan to enroll in school part-time take the job with Max. It's too good of an opportunity to pass up. Max tells me he likes his coffee black and I tell him to get it himself.

He laughs for a long time.

XxX

"I think I'm gonna do it. Tonight."

"Are you sure?

"I think so. I've got it all planned. Dinner. Flowers. Ice capades."

I shake my head, leaning forward on the couch. "No jokes, man. No jokes."

"You're right." Two-Bit sighs, his face green. He's sitting on the floor, a six-pack next to him. Darry's out with Liz, rekindling the flame, as Two-Bit calls it.

"You got the ring?"

Two-Bit slugs down the beer. "I do. I think." Frantically, he starts patting the pockets of his jeans, flailing around. Finally, he breathes easy. "Okay. Okay. I have it." Another sip.

"You can't ask her drunk, Two-Bit," I say, watching carefully. "Sober up. Go for a walk."

"Right again, kid. You're so damn smart it scares me." Two-Bit shoves the bottle into my hand. "Have a drink for me. I think I'm gonna need it." He sways as he stands.

I finish the beer, draining it. Suddenly, I realize I'm probably as nervous as Two-Bit.

XxX

After Two-Bit leaves, I run the tap, getting a glass of water. I uncap my pneumonia medication and swallow the pills and the water.

There, in the kitchen, I think.

The house is still and quiet. It smells like it always has, of gasoline and warmth and burnt food and dust. Smells like home. I think about how messed up I had been six months ago, how distorted everything was to me and know I'll never go back to that.

I hate all the mistakes but I'd do them all over again to get to this point of being healthy and whole. The route I took was a long and hard one but the delay was worth it. I don't have to wonder anymore.

XxX

"You think he did it?" Steve asks, chewing on a toothpick. He eyes his cards.

"I don't know…I think so…"I murmur, checking mine out as well. I have a straight.

"Oh, I bet he did," Liz says, setting a salad on the table. She gives me a smile. Darry invited her over for a BBQ and despite his protests that it's nothing I can see it's something.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Now Evie's gonna get ideas."

"You give yourself way too much credit, Stevie. I don't think Evie wants to marry your sorry ass," Soda interjects, stretching a long arm across the table to snag a Pepsi. Steve looks slightly wounded.

Darry hits Soda on the back of the head with an oven mitt. He hands him a platter of burgers. "You wanna do the honors?"

Soda gives Darry a grin as Steve and I groan. "Well, thanks Dar. Don't mind if I do." He scrambles outside with the tray, shouting something about lighter fluid and bonfires.

"Filled with regret?" I ask my oldest brother, whose brow is now creased in worry. Liz asks if we have a fire extinguisher. Before Darry can say anything, the sound of someone laying on a car horn fills the house.

"Holy shit, he did it," Steve says, head whipping around.

I run out of the house in time to see Kathy hopping out of the truck with the ring on her finger. It sparkles in the sun. She's giggles and waves to Sodapop. Two-Bit's grinning from sideburn to sideburn. He gives me a thumbs-up. I stand on the porch and grin.

XxX

Liz and Kathy, inside readying the salad and desserts, are talking wedding plans. Every so often they'll erupt into laughter, which floats outside and hits us as we sit around on the porch.

"Congrats, man," I tell Two-Bit. "You pulled it off."

"That I did." He raises his beer, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "And congrats to you."

"For what?"

"For being the best man. For laying witness to the grandness that is holy matrimony…"

I roll my eyes, trying to disentangle. "Knock it off..."

"We'll see how grand it is when you get kicked out and ask to sleep on our couch," Steve says, pulling a beer from the cooler. As Steve and Two-Bit begin to bicker, I jog over to help my brother.

"Do I have the moves or what?" Soda asks, flipping a burger and catching it expertly on the end of the spatula.

"Dad taught you that," Darry says with a grin. "Figured you needed a hobby." Soda laughs and flips another one.

It's as good a time as any. "I got a job," I announce. My brothers turn, staring. "At the paper. Full time as a reporter." I bite my lip.

Soda's gawking. "You mean…this…it's gonna be your _job_?"

"That's uh, kinda the idea…"

Darry is careful. "What about school?"

"I'll go part-time…I'll still graduate."

"So…"

"So…"

"So, you're staying here?" Soda asks.

"Yeah, I'm staying here."

They look calmer than expected. Soda flips another burger. Darry nods. "You can stay with me…or Sodapop…whatever you want…" He nods again. "It's real good, Ponyboy."

Soda points the spatula at me. "Just—just be careful. That's all I ask, Ponyboy. For our sanity. No more chasing nurses."

I chuckle, smiling at my brothers. I still don't know why things happened like they did but I'm thankful. The sun gleams high in the sky, the laughter and voices of my friends and family loud in the summer air.

"I'll be okay, guys."

Darry exhales. He looks at Soda and then back at me. "Yeah, we know you will, kiddo."

XxX

_This is done. Wow. I seriously got a bit teary eyed finishing this. Looking back, I can't believe how it started and where this took off. Thank you for the reads and reviews. I couldn't have done it without you spurring me along. Thank you, thank you._

_Pardon any typos._

_Just for reference I am going to take a break to focus on some of my real-life writing. This has consumed me and while I'm sad it's over, I'm so glad too! _

_If I do any stories in the near future it will be one-shots. BUT I'm not saying I won't write a longer story just not now. However, out of curiosity which story would you be interested in seeing a sequel to? Not promising…just wondering. _

_Blah. Anyway…that was nice and rambling. Thanks again and please review the final chapter!_

_LOVES,_

_Feisty_


End file.
